


Choice Millionaire

by BlueDisquiet



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood and Injury, Drugging, Hostage Situations, Kageyama Tobio Needs a Hug, Kidnapping, M/M, Miya Osamu Needs a Hug, Miya Osamu is bad at feelings, Panic Attacks, Protective Kageyama Tobio, Romance, Sexual Tension, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Strong Language, Threats of Violence, Tsukishima Kei is a Good Friend, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27452968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueDisquiet/pseuds/BlueDisquiet
Summary: The task was simple - all he had to do was snatch Pretty Boy from his own company' parking lot, extort him for money, pay the yakuza, and live to see another day.His soulmate turning out to be his abductee was definitelynoton the agenda.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Miya Osamu
Comments: 9
Kudos: 122
Collections: OsaKage Day 2020





	1. People, I’ve Been Sad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoroNoKimi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoroNoKimi/gifts), [CharWright5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharWright5/gifts), [Hachimomo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hachimomo/gifts).



>   
> So um this was supposed to be a short one but it kinda got out of hands. 
> 
> I admit, the idea for this fic is not original. I've been in many many fandoms, so I’ve read my share of soulmate AUs. I'm especially fond of unconventional soulmate tropes (e.g., kidnapping, defying fate etc) and I've come across many fics that had similar premise. Because I love this setting and also I love Osakage, I thought I'd try my hands on it, too. 
> 
> Huge thanks to [Sage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoroNoKimi/pseuds/MoroNoKimi) for being my beta and also for giving me validation. 
> 
> Also, huge thanks to Char and Pandora for being awesome and feeding my Osakage obsession. This fic is for you uwu
> 
> I have a playlist made for this story which you can find on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4VwO2e2GwzbhVX05Jg3FNX).
> 
>   
> Enjoy the ride!  
> 

**🍙 Sunday, 11:34 - Miya's apartment 🍙**

Miya Osamu was a good person. 

He wasn’t the type to hold an award for ’upstanding citizens’, but he knew he was. He was a good person who did good things. Always smiling at the people who crossed his path on the streets, always polite to the cashiers bagging his groceries at the supermarket, always respectful to the security guard at his apartment building, always kind to the homeless man sleeping in the back alley behind the restaurant where he worked... and so and so and so. 

He was also a good person who did bad things. Always stealing, always lying, always cheating, always taking bribes, always hurting people, always hurting himself (was that a bad thing?).

Some would argue that he was actually a bad person who occasionally did good things, but he wasn’t the type to dwell too much on the semantics, nor was he the type to throw himself pity parties. He saved his energy for something else. Like surviving.

In the end, good or bad, Miya Osamu was just a person, and he knew it, too. 

He also knew that he hadn’t lived a good life. 

No, that wasn’t right. 

He just hadn’t lived _an easy_ life. It wasn’t always this bad. 

If he focused hard enough, he could still remember the taste of the onigiri his parents usually prepared on Wednesdays, right after he and his brother would come home from school, too happy in their little paradise, too oblivious to the cruel world outside. He could still remember the days when his family would gather around in their cramped living room, and his father would tell them the same old story about that time he almost set the kitchen on fire trying to boil water when he was just starting culinary school. 

He could also remember other things. Like how one day, during dinner, strange men broke into their tiny house, toppled over his father’s glass cabinet, and stomped on the beautiful potted plants they looked after with the help of their mother. Their shared bedroom was torn apart, their kitchen looked like the aftermath of a battlefield. Their living room…

The blood..

So much blood..

Destroying his peaceful world hadn’t been enough. His parents had to be taken away from him, too. 

He thought about that day constantly, despite his best efforts not to. It played like a movie he projected onto the back of his eyelids, when he was awake, when he was asleep, and anywhere in between. 

He still remembered the blood oozing from his father’s chest, staining the beige carpet in the living room with dark shades of red. He still remembered the hollowness of his mother’s eyes as she laid motionless on the floor, her pink skirt, too, soiled with blood. He still remembered the whimpers of his brother, not older than twelve, clutching uselessly at his shirt, not really comprehending what was happening. 

Suffice it to say, Miya Osamu had (few) good days, and (many) bad days, and as bad days went, he was having the worst kind. 

But he was used to it by now — the taste of blood in his mouth, the persistent pain of a dislocated jaw, and the developing headache. He’d have to get a new tube of concealer to hide the bruise that was inevitably forming on the side of his face if he were to show up for work, if that was even a possibility to begin with.

Miya Osamu considered himself a thoughtful person. He cared, sometimes too much, about too many things. He showed empathy, compassion, kindness, but it made him weak, vulnerable, easy to exploit. 

He wasn’t even that old, but it felt like he’d been living for so long that it was hard to remember a life without the constant suffering and misery and pain and humiliation. He hated it all, but mostly, he hated how broken it made him, how empty his soul was. He often pitied the person who was destined (cursed) to be his soulmate. Or maybe he was being too optimistic, hoping too much that someone like him would even have a soulmate (soulmark notwithstanding). He couldn’t even imagine being loved unconditionally. People like him did not deserve to be loved. Osamu would have scoffed at the idea if he weren’t in so much pain at the moment. 

With shaking hands, he cleaned up the last of the blood and threw away the soiled piece of cloth in the plastic bag next to the sink. He didn’t even bother to spare a second glance at the mirror because he knew exactly what he’d see: a split lip from the left corner of his mouth, a swollen jaw, and the myriad of fresh bruises, scratches, and other marks that had been left on his skin.

Osamu squeezed his eyes shut. The tears burned behind his eyes, but the water wouldn’t flow, not yet anyways. He was only twenty-six and his fate was sealed a long time ago. His life had been ruined a long time ago.

The sound of the apartment's door opening drew his attention, and he turned to face the only person he knew would be here.

“Tsumu,” he growled, pushing himself away from the sink. He threw open the door, nearly tearing it off its hinges, and stormed out of the bathroom. The door crashed against the wall, then recoiled so quickly that its handle banged into his sore left side. He grunted in pain but he kept on moving. Right now, he was angry, no, he was _livid_. He stomped down the hallway, moving towards the subject of his fury. 

Atsumu stood in the tight space of their kitchen, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world, helping himself to an onigiri from the plate on the counter. 

“Where’ve ya been?” Osamu all but shouted at him.

Atsumu’s body stiffened, his face paled the moment his eyes settled on the bruises on Osamu’s face and realized what had happened while he was gone. Or maybe, the white shock that washed over him was the result of realizing who was to thank for Osamu’s new face job. For a moment he stood perfectly still, as if confronting a wild animal, slowly placing the onigiri back on the plate, before putting both of his hands up in surrender. “Look, I know what yer thinking, but —” 

That brought a bitter laugh to his mouth, “How can ya know what I’m thinking when ya don’t even have a brain to begin with?” Osamu shoved him against the counter, one of his hands grabbing Atsumu tightly by the collar of his shirt. 

“Alright,” Atsumu said, eyes avoiding his, “I don’t know what _they_ think happened but I swear I didn’t —”

“Shut up,” Osamu shouted again, slamming his fist against the counter, just a few inches away from where Atsumu was standing. “For once in yer short, miserable life, take responsibility for yer actions!” 

His imbecile of a twin made a protesting noise, but Osamu was having none of it. His other hand pulled him forward by the arm and shook him a few times, as if that would actually do anything. “Stealing from the fucking yakuza? For fuck’s sake, Tsumu!”

“I didn’t steal anything!” He snapped back, trying to shove him away. “I dunno what yer talking about.”

Atsumu was a grown man with a toddler's brain. If his eyes fell on something he wanted, he’d take it without a second thought. Precautions be damned. It didn’t help that he was a master of pick-pocketing, which went directly to his empty head, making him believe he could do anything. Osamu often wondered whether his twin was dropped on his head as a baby. 

“Ya wanna know what I know?” Osamu asked rhetorically, “I know that because of yer screw up, I’m the one who’s gonna have to pay whatever debt you racked up with oyabun. Again.” He turned his head so that his twin wouldn't see the tears of rage swelling in his eyes as he remembered the way those big assholes dragged him to an alley to ‘deliver a message’, just as he was about to leave the apartment for work. His skin burned in humiliation in every place they touched.

He turned back to look at his brother, “This is what yer gonna do, Tsumu. Yer gonna get yer shit, and yer gonna get the fuck out of here, and yer gonna lay low. No, better yet, yer not coming back. Ever.” 

Atsumu was shaking, and his head was tilted to the side. He looked like he was about to cry. His lips parted, mouth sliding open to try and plead his case. “Samu,” he breathed, his hands clutching helplessly at Osamu’s blood-stained shirt. The same way he did that night when their parents were killed. The same way he had always done ever since Osamu had the misfortune of meeting him twenty-six years and nine months ago in their mother’s womb. Always selfish, always seeking comfort and reassurance, always taking-taking-taking but never giving.

Miya Osamu was a thoughtful person. He cared. Sometimes too much, about too many things. But he cared about his brother the most. Atsumu was his weakness. And the yakuza knew how to use that to their advantage. 

“No,” he replied, straightening them both up, the motion pulling at the bruises where the goons had punched him in the stomach earlier that day. “Yer out. Even if I don’t end up in jail or in a body bag after this, I’m done taking care of ya. I’m done looking after ya. Yer not my burden anymore.” The words felt like acid on his tongue and like knives in his heart. He hoped they hurt his brother as much as they did him. He needed him to be hurt, it was the only way.

“Is it really —” Atsumu started to say, before he shook his head and cleared his throat. “How bad is it?”

“Bad,” he answered, letting him go and stepping away. “Now, go pack yer shit. I’ve already called Suna to give you a ride.”

He expected his brother to throw a tantrum. He expected anger. He expected denial. He wanted it, even. He wanted an excuse to scream and shout and hit something. He wanted to take his anger and frustration out. He wanted an outlet. 

But that never happened. Atsumu just nodded, wiping furiously at his face before shuffling dejectedly out of the kitchen. 

Finally left alone, his knees buckled and he fell to the floor. He was tired, both mentally and physically. Tired of looking after himself. Tired of looking after his brother. Tired of basically everything. This time, he couldn’t stop the flood of tears spilling from his eyes, so he just gave in and allowed himself to cry, hoping that Atsumu wouldn’t hear the sound of his muffled, pathetic sobs. He was only twenty-six. Life shouldn’t be hurting him this much.

* * *

**💙 Monday, 15:58 - Cypher Corp 💙**

Kageyama Tobio wasn’t just rich — he was filthy rich. He had been privileged enough to be born into the Kageyama family which basically ruled over Japan like a dynasty. He was also a talented genius and an excellent businessman, so it came as no surprise when he chose to make a name for himself outside of his family, building Cypher Corp, his own tech company, up from its very foundations, and rarely relying on the wealth and connections that came along with his name.

He liked to think of himself as an average self-made-man. Everything he had achieved, every success, every win, was the fruit of his hard work, persistence, and determination. Of course, an average self-made-man did not have billions and billions of yens at the tip of his fingers, so maybe he wasn’t really _that_ average after all. 

When his soulmark finally revealed itself on the pale skin of his forearm, he was confused. Not because it showed three weeks earlier than the expected date of his twelfth birthday, but because of the words inscribed there.

‘The fuck are ya looking at, pretty boy.’ It had said, or rather asked. It seemed angry, bitter. It literally had a cuss word on it, for god’s sake. The look on his parents’ faces when they saw it for the first time was priceless. 

His family was old money, and with that kind of money, complications were bound to happen. Perhaps that was the end result, what the universe had decided — that apparently, his money would change him so much that his true soulmark would reflect who he was destined to become in the future, rather than who he chose to be.

He believed in the mystical concept of soulmates, just fine. He also believed in the spontaneity of finding someone, and falling in love. Luckily, living in this day and age allowed people to explore this philosophy. Most societies around the world wouldn’t look down upon people who chose to date or even marry someone who wasn’t their soulmate, that happiness was a person’s own making, soulmate or not. 

So then why was he utterly, undeniably, very clearly still fucking single?

What with him being Tokyo’s most eligible bachelor and a certified rich bastard, you’d think people would be throwing themselves at him, but no. Not even his soulmate liked him, it seemed. He often found himself pondering what exactly was he going to do to make his soulmate so angry at him? Should he even care about what was destined for him? Or should he finally give in and try that dating app Kei, his lawyer-turned-assistant-turned-best friend, had sneakily installed on his phone when he thought he wasn’t looking. 

A sudden kick to his shin brought him back to the conference room. Right. He was in a meeting with a start-up company that they chose to acquire. He had been half-way through an elaborate escape plan that involved him fake-receiving an ‘emergency call’ about the hospitalization of his fake great-uncle just to get out here, when his mind wandered to the topic of soulmates, his soulmark, and his pathetic (nonexistent) dating life. 

He blinked twice, and straightened on the chair he sat on, pretending to pay attention to whatever the guy in front of him was presenting. Kei shot him a dirty look from the corner of his eye. 

Tobio tapped his pen impatiently while the client listed all the ‘improvements’ his company was going to offer once the merger was finalized. They were supposed to have already acquired the start-up months ago, but he and Kei agreed to delay it as much as possible, just so that the background check he commissioned from Yamaguchi was completed. Better be safe than sorry with these kinds of decisions, Kei had warned and Tobio couldn’t agree more. The man’s frosty gaze toward him made it clear he wasn’t happy with their indecisiveness, however.

“So, Kageyama-sama, can you give us an official date to sign the contract or should we take our business elsewhere?” Great. Now he was giving them an ultimatum.

He slapped on his businessman smile (the one Kei often referred to as 'the piranha face'), stood up, and cleared his throat. “Considering the fact that you just presented new ideas compared to our last meeting, I’d —”

“I can promise you we’ll set up a date with your assistant by the end of the week.” Kei interrupted and stood to shake the man’s hand. “I’ll see you out.”

Tobio closed his eyes and sighed in relief, silently thanking the blond for making the decision on his behalf.

“You should go home. You look like shit.” Kei helpfully suggested after sending the client away. “Yamaguchi’s report came in while you were daydreaming. I’ll take it from here.”

“Thought you’re getting laid tonight.” He said over his shoulder, walking out of the meeting room striding back into his office, with Kei trailing close behind. 

“Tetsu won’t be home until ten. I have time.” Kei closed the door and walked over to Tobio’s polished oak desk, rounding the corner, and flopping down on the black leather of his office chair. It protested with a quiet squeak, and he slid down the back until he was comfortable. He switched on the computer and waited for it to boot. 

Tobio shuffled to the small refrigerator he had in his office and brought out two cold melon beers, placing them on the table. Before the lawyer could say anything, Tobio pulled out the small bottle opener attached to his keychain and opened them both, tapping one bottle with the other before taking a seat across from Kei. 

“Thank you, your majesty,” Kei smirked, taking a deep swing from his bottle. “I know you’re trying to bribe me into coming to that family dinner with Miwa-san.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tobio matched his smirk with a grin of his own.

“Yeah right.” Kei rolled his eyes, taking another sip and turning back to the computer. “I meant it, though. I’ll handle the merger crap for now. But just so you know, I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I’m taking tomorrow off, and if you dare call me for work before Wednesday, I’ll quit.” 

Tobio noticed the glitter in his eyes and knew he was joking. It was true that he built his company himself, but everyone knew it was Kei who helped him run it. He trusted Kei with his life and money, and knew the other did the same. 

Tobio stood, and shrugged. “Don’t worry, with how boring my life is at the moment, I’m sure nothing would happen if you took a break.” He grumbled, turning to grab his bag, and making sure to shove the file labeled ‘Interim Report’ that Kei absently slid across the table inside. Apparently, he had reading homework to do this evening. He was all the way to the double doors of his office when Kei’s voice interrupted him.

“Stop sulking, King,” he said, “By the end of this week, we’ll have made a few hundred thousand yen off this acquisition. You should be proud.” 

Tobio felt a smile forming on his face. Kei had a way of making him feel better, snide remarks and all. “I’m more than proud. It’s all thanks to your hard work.” Then before Kei could tease him about his sappiness, he let himself out of the office, down the long hallway, and around the corner to the area where the elevators were. 

Since it was his company, he had a private elevator that directly connected his office at the top of the building to the underground parking garage. Only he and Kei used it, of course. It made his life so much easier since it allowed him to avoid bumping into the people who worked there. He liked his employees but he was a socially awkward person. Once, he had accidentally insulted one of his managers who was pregnant at the time because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Kei still hadn’t let that go. 

Pressing on the downwards arrow button, he pulled out his phone to kill time as he waited for the elevator to come.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter is from People, I've been sad by Christine.


	2. You're a Choice Millionaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic playlist on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4VwO2e2GwzbhVX05Jg3FNX)!!

**🍙 Sunday, 22:45 - Miya’s apartment 🍙**

The paper slip that was shoved in his face only had location coordinates written on it. After sending Atsumu off with Suna, he took the downtown bus to the address. He knew where it was, considering how often he got roped into doing shit for the mob. The ‘receptionist’ handed him a manila folder, as well as a janitor outfit with a cap, and sent him away.

On his way back home, Osamu dropped by the drug-store and bought a high coverage concealer, four rolls of duct-tape, bandages, rubbing alcohol, a bottle of cheap sake, a pack of cigarettes, and a cup noodle for dinner. It was almost eleven in the evening by the time he got back to their, no _his_ , apartment, the winter sky was riddled with grey clouds that interweaved with the smoke coming out of the cigarette he had lit not too long ago. 

Ten minutes in, and he was seated on the couch in the living room (he refused to acknowledge the lack of certain items belonging to a certain someone), with a cup of sake sitting on the unvarnished plywood table in front of him, and his warm noodle cup secured tightly in one hand, while the other leafed through the contents of the envelope. Inside, he found two access passes (one for work and one for home), a photograph of his target from a magazine clipping (he was pretty), a dossier, a table of possible locations in correspondence to the time of the day, and general instructions on how to proceed (use his car, go to his house, be discreet, failure is not an option). His vision was starting to get blurry, and he couldn’t tell if it were due the exhaustion from the day’s events or the sake finally kicking in. 

Osamu read through the instructions multiple times, before finally coming up with what he considered a solid plan. He sighed, feeling suddenly very, very tired. Without realizing it, his body had lied down and he fell asleep on the couch. 

When he woke up, the sun was softly pushing faint rays through the blinds over his window. It still hadn’t snowed yet, but it was cold enough to make him wince as he stretched his sore limbs, his bruised body aching from all the beating he took the previous day. His bottle of sake stood half-full on the table, and the unfinished noodles had congealed in globs in the cup ages ago. 

He rubbed at his eyes with knuckles of his hands, chasing away the remnants of sleep as he reached numbly for the pack of cigarettes that he knew was on the table. He lit his first cigarette and mentally went over his plans again, before getting up to start his (potentially last) day. 

When he stepped outside his apartment, the first thing he noticed was the calmness in the air. The streets were strangely empty, caught between the time where early risers were yet to leave for work, and night-shifters had already come home. It was peaceful, quiet.

Before leaving, he had made sure that his bruises were concealed enough that nobody would look at him twice. He was wearing the janitor outfit and the cap, and he threw a jacket on top to protect himself from the biting wind. 

He walked over to the bus stop closest to his apartment, and took the line heading to the city center. Taking a seat at the far end of the bus, he rested his head against the cold window and allowed himself a moment to relax. He closed his eyes and let the sleep take him. 

* * *

**🍙 Monday, 10:15 - Cypher Corp 🍙**

He chose the parking garage based on many factors; because it was less likely to draw attention, because his target would be completely isolated, because it would take approximately ten minutes for the guards to come down from the security room and intervene. But most importantly, he picked the parking garage because people were as stupid as a box of rocks, and this stupidity made them very predictable. 

The human brain was an evolutionary miracle, consisting of layers upon layers of advanced neural networks, communicating solely via electrochemical signals released from one end of what could be described as an organic wire, and accepted by another. It had so many interesting structures. An example of such was the hippocampus. Studies had shown that this area acted as a built-in GPS, containing different types of neurons that helped humans work out their location in space. In fact, this structure made it entirely possible for a person to move from one point to another without having to rely on most of their senses as long as they have passed through that particular location enough times to generate a virtual map.

Which was why most people would meander through parking lots at their work places or apartment buildings without actually paying attention to their surroundings, because their advanced monkey brains allowed them to mindlessly walk to their cars while texting or watching videos of cats doing stupid shit on their phones, completely oblivious to everyone coming at them.

Big mistake, in general, but one that worked well in Osamu’s advantage. So he chose the garage because he had predicted, with 99.9% accuracy, that his target would be too preoccupied by his phone to notice anything else. 

He arrived early to the center, and took his time mapping the area around the company building where his target worked (or owned, depending on how you look at it), mentally making notes of the blind spots of the security cameras, before using the main entrance to go inside, and taking the service elevator down to case the joint, so to speak.

His target’s car was exactly where he expected it to be — the V.I.P area. A quick touch on the bonnet told him that its owner had arrived not long ago judging by how warm it was. The car itself was screaming rich-rich-rich, and Osamu recognized it as a Tesla S car; an all-electric, five-doors vehicle with a deep-blue paint job, and chrome rims. Definitely custom-made, he thought, as his hand caressed one of the side mirrors. He could spend his entire life slaving away for the mob and still not be able to afford even a sixth of its price. He shook his head, and walked away. No point in wallowing in self-pity. He could do that later, if he survived long enough, of course.

He left the building from the side entrance this time, using one of his clearance cards just to make sure it was working as intended, before walking all the way around the street to sit on one of the wooden benches at the park across. 

People around him were in a hurry, as if monsters were chasing after them, barely taking a moment or two to catch their breaths. Lower-class citizens mixed with big money, cars and delivery trucks drove up and down the streets, rich and poor alike drank their coffee and ate their meat buns. Life waited for no one. It moved and moved and moved without sparing him a second glance, and not for the first time, he felt the unfairness of it all. 

Shying against the biting cold of the late-morning, Osamu took a few mouthfuls of the sake-laced coffee from his thermos, and waited, and smoked, and waited, and drank more coffee. For six hours, he sat patiently on that uncomfortable bench, eyes looking nowhere and everywhere, with his hands shoved deeply in the pockets of his leather jacket, desperately trying to stay warm. 

Then finally, when the winter sun began to set in the sky, and the night had come, he was up on his feet, heading back in the direction of the side entrance and into the parking lot. 

Just as he planned, the guards were about to rotate so nobody should be paying attention to the security camera monitors, and with his janitor outfit and the cap he wore to cover his face, this should be a child’s play. 

With cautious steps, he walked to the blue Tesla, having already memorized the route to the parking bay, so it didn’t take him that long. Then carefully, he crouched down behind the vehicle, conveniently hidden behind a pillar so that he was in the blind side of the security camera on the opposite row, and concealed enough so that his mark wouldn’t notice him immediately.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long, because not only five minutes later, he heard footsteps moving in his direction. He knew it was him because this area had been reserved for the CEO and his entourage, and according to the timetable he memorized, his target usually left work at six on the dot.

Osamu couldn’t see him properly, but he caught a glimpse of his leather shoes as they hit the concrete. His steps were straight and even, every stride was purposeful, as if he were a model strutting down the catwalk in a fashion show.

Soon enough, he was in his sight, completely distracted by the phone he held in one of his hands. Completely predictable. Completely oblivious. For a moment, everything stilled, and his mind recalled the information in that envelope. His target was Kageyama Tobio, the so-called Young King of Tokyo, heir to the Kageyama family, who controlled everything worth controlling in Japan. Everyone who had the privilege of occupying the same space as him swore he oozed politeness and decorum. He demanded respect as much as he gave it, and they all wanted a piece of his royal ass.

Osamu wasn’t blind. He’d done a bit of research on his own when he was killing time early this morning. Kageyama Tobio was pretty, not just handsome, but actually, undeniably beautiful. His hair was silky and dark, styled perfectly to frame his face. His skin was pale, and smooth. But his most prominent features as a Kageyama, were his dark blue eyes and his pouty lips. In the majority of his photos, he smiled graciously, genuinely, and with too much sincerity or a rich bastard. He was only twenty-six, and life had been handed to him on a silver plate. 

It was hate at first sight.

Osamu zoned back in, inhaled deeply, and took out the benzos needle he prepared beforehand. He waited for him to unlock his car first (very crucial step), then it was a simple matter of jumping the rich asshole from behind and jabbing the needle into his neck before his mind could register what was happening. 

Not even ten seconds later, he felt ‘His Majesty’ go limp in his arms, his phone loosening from his grasp and skidding on the floor, and his legs giving out underneath him. Osamu barely had time to react to keep him from falling on his pretty face. 

He groaned, as he shoved the sedated man unceremoniously in the back seat, then proceeded to pick up his discarded phone and keys from the ground, before going around to the driver seat and starting the car. 

Sparing one last glance at the sleeping form currently twisted in a heap on the seat behind him, he took a breath and stepped on the gas. 

There was no turning back now.

* * *

**💙 Monday, 17:15 - Cypher Corp** **💙**

It was five minutes to six in the evening when Tobio finally stepped out of the elevator and into the underground parking garage. The area was quiet and deserted at this time of the day which wasn’t unusual as most employees had already left almost an hour ago. 

Miwa had been texting him non-stop the whole day, trying to get him to come to the family dinner she hosted with her soulmate this weekend. He had no problem with Miwa or her soulmate. He enjoyed their company, even. Alisa was fun to be around, always telling him about her overseas adventures (the wardrobe malfunction stories were his favorite), and he had always been close to his sister despite the relatively large age gap between them, so that wasn’t the issue here. 

The thing was, Miwa had also invited their parents to the dinner, and the thought of having to spend two hours under the scrutinizing gaze of his mother, and the poorly concealed disappointed looks of his father made him hesitant. Kei had been correct in his assumption earlier. Tobio was thinking of a way to persuade his best friend to accompany him. Kei was one of the few people who could actually keep up with his parents, or tolerate his family in general. He always knew exactly what to say to keep them in check (read: shut them up), and get them off Tobio’s back. 

He turned to where his car was parked, pressing the unlock button on the remote he held in one hand, his other hand flicking absently through the walls of messages his sister had sent, when suddenly, his body was jerked backwards, his back collided with a firm chest, and he felt the dampness of a warm breath on his neck. 

For a brief moment, he was disoriented, barely keeping a grip on his phone to prevent it from falling. _“What the hell —“_ he tried to make out, but his words were muffled by a hand that clamped over his mouth. 

There was silence, brief and heavy. Like the fleeting few seconds of calmness between a lightning bolt and thunder, and Tobio’s body was pinned in place. Then the thunder came and everything rushed back to him like a tidal wave. But before he even managed a half-thought to try and struggle, to break free, he felt a sharp, prickly pain on the left side of his neck. 

His feet slowly slid from underneath him, and the last thing Tobio saw was the reflection of a man on his car’s windows, and then everything went black.

* * *

**💙 Monday, 20:05 - Unknown** **💙**

Pain pain pain. That was the first thing his brain registered when he regained consciousness. It felt like the bad hangover he’d usually get the following day after spending time with Kei and Kuroo. Light assaulted him and he involuntarily let out a throaty moan in protest. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then slowly, gently, he cracked them back open and blinked in an attempt to clear his vision, the dim room around him finally coming into focus. 

The offending light from before was emitted from a single overhead neon lamp, exactly above his head, that was barely bright enough to illuminate the room he was currently in. His eyes also spied a small window with blinds that were pulled all the way up not too far from his left, which allowed for light from the street outside to pour in.

As far as he could tell, he was in a living room of a small, sparsely furnished apartment, with concrete floor and an open kitchenette design that connected directly to the central living area. He couldn’t see it very clearly though, so that was just an assumption. 

The living room also connected to a narrow hallway on his right, just beyond the small table in the middle of the room, and he could discern the outlines of a couple of doors that probably led to a bedroom and a bathroom. He tried to lift himself out of the chair he was currently sitting on, only to realize he had been securely bound to place. 

Then it came back to him. Everything ached, his head pounded, and his pulse rattled deep in his ears like a drum as the reality of the situation finally settled in. He’d been kidnapped, right in the middle of the parking garage of his own goddamn company. 

He tried to remember the events that led to his current state but his brain was a mush. It felt like he was trying to grip tightly onto dry sand grains. The more he squeezed his mind for details, the more they slipped through his fingers. 

Being the son of one of the richest families in Japan had its ups and downs, of course. A lot of people had tried to get to his family, either to take their money or power or both, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they had resorted to use the tactic of kidnapping to achieve that. The question was, who would be brave (or stupid) enough to actually try it? 

As a Kageyama, Tobio had been taught from a young age how to properly respond to situations in which his safety was threatened. He knew how to protect himself from physical harm, how to force his brain to stay calm, to focus, to analyze, then come up with a plan to eliminate the danger or at least keep himself out of harm's way until help arrived. But of course, that was just training, just hypothetical scenarios that didn’t put his life at risk. He never had to actually apply that knowledge in real life before. 

Well, first time for everything. 

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, recalling everything he was taught, and just like a machine booting up, his brain stepped into gear. He was duct-taped to an armchair, where it went multiple times around his chest, forearms, and legs. He wasn’t gagged, though, so he was expected to talk. His kidnapper had taken extra measures to ensure he was tightly secured judging by the few rolls of empty tape thrown carelessly at his feet. His kidnapper also took extra care to ensure he was comfortable in his seated position which meant he was expected to be locked in here for a while. 

The sky outside the window was dark. It was well deep in winter so darkness tended to settle earlier than expected. He estimated that at most, a couple of hours had passed since his abduction.

A quick look around him and a deep breath of the air later, he concluded that he was currently held in a private property in the downtown area judging by the loud noise coming from outside. The wood smelled musty (exposure to moisture; poor insulation; lack of management), an ashtray laid on the table in front of him, almost filled to the brim with cigarette stubs (personal traces), the living area was clean (looked after), the power and heating worked (paid the bills), and he couldn’t see any personal belongings or photos anywhere around him (apartment rented, not owned). 

Tobio smiled and offered himself a glib compliment for actually remembering his lessons. He made a mental note to send a gift basket to his sensei when he regained his freedom. 

Before he could gather more clues to help him escape, he heard one of the hallway doors creak, and a few seconds later, a man, dressed from head to toe in black, stepped into the room.

Tobio followed his movements as he walked closer, a blank expression on his face, before stopping directly behind the couch and crossing his arms. There was something about this guy that felt… _weird_. He was far too casual for a kidnapper, and he looked exhausted. Tobio’s eyes also caught the darkening bruise on his jaw and the way he avoided putting weight on his left side as he stood. 

He was injured, that much was clear. But it had to have happened before he jumped him in the parking area. Had he been physically forced to kidnap him? By whom?

Tobio’s train of thought was interrupted by a snort coming from the man in front of him. 

“The fuck are ya looking at, pretty boy.”

Wait, _what?_

Tobio gaped. 

There it was. The foul-worded sentence (question) he’d been dying to hear his entire life, coming out of the mouth of the man who had kidnapped him. His eyes widened, and he felt wheezy, as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. He forced himself to breathe through his nose, and tried to remember that this man was a criminal, a kidnapper, and who knows what else. _Don’t let your guard down_ , he repeated in his head like a mantra. _Focus, assess, analyze. Focus, assess, analyze. Focus, assess…._

_Analyze._

The man spoke with a distinct dialect. Kansai. Harsh. Melodic. Uncommon in Tokyo. _Who are you? Where are you from? Why did you kidnap me? Who are you? Who do you work for? Who are you?_

He shook his head. He was getting distracted again. _Don’t let your guard down._

It was proven to be _very_ difficult to bring his wandering mind back to the present when all he wanted to do was to throw himself at the man, _his soulmate_ , to touch him, kiss him, fuck him, or maybe get fucked by him, he wasn’t really picky. 

He groaned softly. So much for ’focus, assess, analyze’, huh. 

His gaze snapped back up when he heard the man move towards him. His captor was tall, almost as tall as he was, and had a large build judging by the way the muscles in his arms and chest strained against the fabric of his henley which suggested frequent visits to the gym. His hair was dark, and styled in a way that his fringe was flipped to the left side of his head. 

Tobio chewed on the inside of his cheek, watching as the man closed the distance between them, a crease forming between his eyebrows in confusion. 

Now, towering over him, Tobio found himself transfixed by the man’s eyes. They were grey, and large and hooded. Perfectly complementing his handsome, angular face.

“Well?” He asked, stepping forward, and Tobio got a noseful of his scent. Clean. Airy. Like pine or cedar.

As if he had been enchanted with a spell, Tobio couldn’t stop the stream of words flowing from his mouth all at once, self-preservation thrown completely out of the window. “You smell...nice.”

The effect was immediate. The man’s eyes widened in shock just for a second, before he seized the front of Tobio’s shirt tightly in one of his hands, his arm muscles contracting from the force of his grip. “Ya have _got_ to be fucking kidding me.”

All Tobio could do was laugh at the absurdity of the situation. How the hell was the man in front of him his soulmate? A petty fucking criminal who had drugged him, kidnapped him, and taped him to a fucking chair, and fate had decided that _they_ were soulmates? Destined to love one another _unconditionally_? 

And to add insult to the injury, the moment the man’s hand had accidentally brushed the exposed skin of his neck, he felt an instant feeling of _something_ rushing through him. As if his body had been turned inside out and all his nerve-endings were on the outside, flailing wildly, and he bit hard on his lower lip to stifle a moan. But at least it wasn’t just him, judging by the way the man’s hand immediately let go of him. They both groaned in unison at the sudden feeling of vertigo that washed over them the moment their physical connection was broken. 

His kidnapper sneered at his own hand, and with a grunt, he walked away from him, heading to where Tobio assumed was the kitchen, then quickly reappearing again carrying a bottle of beer in hand, before taking a seat on the couch across from him. 

Tobio jealousy eyed the bottle for a moment, suddenly feeling very thirsty, before he cleared his throat. “What’s your name?”

“Osamu.” He replied immediately, taking a sip of his beer. 

“Osamu,” Tobio repeated, testing the feeling of the name on his tongue. “And this is where you live?”

“Sure.”

Tobio nodded his head. “So is it common for kidnappers to bring their hostages home? I apologize, I’m not familiar with your… profession.” 

The man, no, _Osamu_ , snorted at him. “The articles weren’t lying, huh. Ya really are a kiss-ass.”

Tobio’s eyebrows furrowed. “I could be rude if that’s what you prefer.”

Osamu licked his lips, and leaned forward on the couch. He placed his bottle on the table, then glanced back at him again, his gaze piercing and cold, but Tobio refused to break their eye-contact. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“Ya wanna know what I prefer?” He slid closer, “I prefer if you’d be kind enough to give me one billion yen.”

“Or what?” He asked, pretending to be ignorant to the hidden threat behind those words.

“Or yer gonna die,” he answered simply, leaning back on the couch. “Nothing personal, of course.”

“And exactly how soon do you want this amount, pray tell?” Why was he asking these stupid questions? Shouldn't he be screaming? Trying to escape?

“Ya got twenty-four — no, twenty-two hours from now.” He picked up his beer bottle again and took a sip, but not before sending Tobio a condescending smirk.

Absurdly high ransom, and a somewhat long deadline for delivery. Exactly like he predicted. This should’ve been a piece of cake, just another business negotiation to deal with, except this guy was his soulmate and that complicated things. _A lot._

Tobio clutched his hands into fists and looked around the room again, trying to come up with an idea to get out of this mess. Unfortunately, from the looks of it, the man had made sure to clear the area thoroughly from anything that could be used to cut through the tape currently holding him in place. So he wasn’t a rookie, then. Still didn't explain why he brought him here, instead of, say, an abandoned warehouse by the docks, or a dark basement or something. 

“Twenty-two hours is a very long time, you know. Someone will come and find me way before that.” He wiggled in the chair, inconspicuously trying to see if he was strong enough to move it. Nope. Didn’t budge. It appeared to be of those sturdy types, so toppling it over to the side wasn’t an option. Maybe he could try to slide it as close to the window as possible, and get the attention of someone outside. But the chances of someone actually noticing him were slim.

Osamu’s eyebrows rose upwards, and his sarcastic smirk from before widened across his face. “I could reduce it to ten, if ya like?” 

Tobio blinked. “Do you like men?” Seriously what was wrong with his brain-to-mouth filter today? 

“How’s that relevant to the conversation?”

“It’s relevant to the whole picture.” He said, “I’m bisexual, in cause you’re wondering.”

“I know, I read it in yer file.” File, huh. So he wasn’t randomly picked. Osamu had researched him, probably knew his daily schedule, too. Definitely hired, then. 

Judging by the expression on his face, Osamu was having the same internal struggle caused by their newly-formed soulmate bond as he was. This whole ordeal clearly took him by surprise, but then again who wouldn’t be surprised if they found out that the person they kidnapped was in fact their soulmate. 

Osamu tried to deflect, to be sarcastic, but he looked uncertain, as though he was having second thoughts, rubbing at the side of his jaw where the dark angry bruise he noticed from before was currently in the process of healing. At least a couple of days old, Tobio thought. 

“I apologize for making you uncomfortable,” he backtracked, “You don’t have to answer of course. And besides, not all soulmates have to be sexual. Or romantic for that matter.”

Osamu just laughed at him, swallowing back the last drops of beer from his bottle, before setting it back on the table again. “They should be calling ya the King of ass kissing.”

Tobio wanted him dead. 

“I‘m sorry I don’t understand what you’re saying. Could you please repeat that again without the fucking rude remarks?” He countered, and took great pleasure in watching Osamu’s eyes widening in shock for a second.

“Ya don’t have to understand anything, pretty boy. So, how ‘bout you just pay me, and we can all go back to our sad, boring lives, hm?”

Was this guy serious?

It was his turn to laugh this time. “You expect me to believe that you’ll let me go? You took me to your house, you showed me your face. We’re soulmates, for fuck’s sake! You honestly think I’m going to give you the money just like that?” 

The smile Osamu aimed at him was one of victory, and Tobio mentally berated himself for allowing him to get to his head and make him lose his temper. 

“We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. Guess that makes ya a choice millionaire, huh?” He chuckled, getting up to leave.

Just when he was half-way across the room before he turned back to Tobio. “Oh and by the way, I like dick. I just don’t like yours.” 

Then he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title for this chapter is from Choice Millionaire by Poets of the Fall.
> 
> I also made a [layout](https://i.imgur.com/p0gtODL.jpg) for Osamu's apartment to provide you with a visual.


	3. I Can’t Help You if I’m Weaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you read the timestamps to avoid confusion. This story kinda follows a non-linear narrative until chapter 4!
> 
> Fic playlist on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4VwO2e2GwzbhVX05Jg3FNX)!!

**🍙 Monday, 18:15 - Cypher Corp 🍙**

Transporting Pretty Boy to his apartment building shouldn’t have had to be difficult, in theory. In practice, however, things went sideways ten minutes after he left the parking lot. But then again, was it really surprising? This was his life, after all. Nothing was easy. 

Actually, no. Scratch that.

Leaving the garage had been easy. Pretty Boy parked his car in the V.I.P area located on the first underground level which made it more convenient for Osamu to use as an escape route, since it allowed him to avoid crawling through the never ending tunnels that the regular employees had to endure to get to the street outside.

He estimated that it would take him approximately a minute to leave the building. He was nervous, tightly gripping the steering wheel, and trying hard to ignore the feeling of anxiety spreading through him. He had shrugged off his leather jacket earlier when he stepped inside, and used it to cover the sleeping man in the backseat. The dark interior of the vehicle blended nicely with the color of his jacket, perfectly concealing his victim from curious eyes. Still, anyone who had a half-mind to actually look closely at the car would be able to tell that it wasn’t in fact the CEO who was driving, even if they failed to see the human-sized lump in the back. 

He should have put him in the trunk, but it was too late for that now. 

He avoided most of the security cameras on the way out, alternating between using either of his arms or the sun visor above the windscreen to subtly hide his face. However, there was one he couldn’t exactly avoid — the camera pointed directly at the driver’s face just a few centimeters away from the exit barrier. 

Slouched in the driver’s seat, with both hands on the wheel, Osamu slowly approached the barrier, head intentionally looking downwards at his lap as he waited with a bated breath for the barrier scanner to identify the RFID tag in the car. It felt like ages before the red light changed to green and he all but floored the gas pedal, leaving the crime scene unscathed. 

Driving on the open road, in a car such as this had been easy, fun even, and he finally allowed himself to relax a little. He drove slow, barely clearing the minimum speed limit, exhaling puffs of smoke after a long drag of his cigarette, with the window on the driver’s side cracked just enough to keep the air inside clean, mindful of passing police cars and the lights flashing on the dash. It only took him ten minutes before he pulled up to another security barrier, behind which was the parking garage of Pretty Boy’s apartment complex. It also had a camera above the entrance, but since it was dark outside, he wasn’t worried too much about being recognized.

He grabbed the other clearance pass he was given in the envelope, and approached the barrier. According to his intel, this apartment complex wasn’t advanced enough to have an RFID tag system, so it still used chipped garage passes. Osamu rolled down the window all the way down, flashed the access card on the scanner, and waited for the barrier to lift up. 

Except… nothing happened. He tried again, and again, and again, but it remained as still as a statute. 

Getting inside the building should’ve been easy, but it wasn’t. 

By now he was borderline panicking. And to make matters worse, he had apparently scanned the pass so many times that the system tagged this as suspicious behavior and notified the security. He only realized it had happened when the intercom that was connected to the barrier cackled, and the clear voice of the guard came through.

“Kageyama-sama, is everything alright?” The voice inquired. 

Osamu’s brain stuttered for a moment, every part of him froze in place, and his thoughts struggled to catch up. Then, as if slapped across the face, his brain switched to Fight or Flight mode. 

Emphasis on Flight. 

“Fuck.” He hissed through gritted teeth. His hands were shaking so hard that he barely managed to switch the gear from D to R. 

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck._

Slowly, as not to rouse even more suspicion, he pressed on the gas pedal and reversed the car away from the entrance, all the while keeping an eye out for the security guard just in case he decided to come down and check for himself. He put enough distance between him and the barrier, switched the gear back to D, and drove.

Back on the open road again, Osamu was shaking, his breath erratic, and the spot between his temples was pounding. The plan was a bust. 

He was supposed to take Kageyama to his apartment, force him to transfer the ransom money to a temporary back account and then hightail it the fuck out of there, out of Tokyo, and hopefully, out of this miserable life. 

Except, here he was, in a stolen car, driving mindlessly on a freeway with no destination in sight, while a high profile bitch slept peacefully in the seat behind him. 

Speaking of sleeping bitches...

He had only an hour left before the hypnotic effects of the benzos wore off and his hostage regained consciousness. Common sense told him to turn back, to go home, to pack whatever shit he owned, and leave Tokyo for good. But he knew he had nowhere to go, that he couldn’t run forever. They’d find him. One way or another. They always do. 

Or worse, they’d find Atsumu first, and _then_ find him. He imagined the look on the oyabun’s face, staring down at him, furious and disappointed, and suppressed a shudder. He was trapped, there was no other way to put it. He had to see this through.

Mind made, he switched on the right blinker, made a U-turn, and drove the car away from the city center. There was only one place he could go to now.

* * *

**🍙 Monday, 19:01 - Unknown 🍙**

Winter rain started to pour while Osamu put more distance between him and Tokyo’s busy center. Streetlights and the occasional headlights of incoming cars were reflected on the wet tarmac. The atmosphere in the car was eerily silent and tense, broken only by the pattering of rain on the roof, the exact opposite of how it was when he drove away from the company building earlier. 

It took all of Osamu’s concentration to focus on the traffic ahead and not succumb to a full nervous breakdown right there and then. He had never botched a mission before, his plans had always been solid, and he had always delivered. This was why the oyabun liked him more than Atsumu. 

_‘Failure is not an option’_ was what the instructions had said. He knew exactly what that implied. 

He switched to the fast lane and sped up, sparing a quick glance at the rearview mirror to check on Pretty Boy just to make sure he was still out. If the GPS on the dashboard was accurate, he should be arriving home in ten minutes tops. 

True enough, eight minutes later, and he was already driving through his street, the lights and noise from the nearby night market made him relax a bit, a sense of familiarity settling around him as the city’s low-income area came into view.

He stopped the car three blocks away from his building in a back alley, hidden from the street cameras and the curious eyes of his neighbors. It was too rich for a place like this, and parking it out in the open would surely attract unwanted attention. He couldn’t afford more risks. He couldn’t afford more screw-ups. 

Stowing the car away also meant he had to carry Pretty Boy home. Before he picked him up, Osamu removed his blazer, his tie, and his shoes, wrapped the leather jacket around his slim shoulders, and covered his bizarrely round head with the cap he was wearing earlier. He looked even prettier when he slept, so at peace, so young, and for some reason, Osamu had a sudden urge to touch him, to brush a hand through his hair. But mostly, he really wanted to see those blue eyes for himself. 

He inhaled deeply, dragging it in through his mouth in an attempt to focus on keeping his thoughts straight, and picked the sleeping man up, one of his arms supported Pretty Boy’s back and the other one slid under his knees. With no time to waste, he locked the car and started moving immediately towards his apartment.

By then, the night had completely settled, and the rain had stopped, its aftermath reflected clearly by the glistening gutters and the puddles of water littering the pavements. Osamu came at his apartment building from the other side of the street, his ’cargo’s’ face was perfectly concealed underneath the cap he forced on his head. To the unobservant eyes, it would appear as if he were carrying a drunk Atsumu back home. After all, it had happened before so many times already — he would get a call at the ass-crack of dawn, barely making any sense of the voice on the other end of the line asking him, no, _begging_ him to come and bring him home. It used to make him so angry. But he refused to think about that now. About how it might never happen again. About how he might never see his twin again. 

Osamu shook his head and continued walking. Relief washed over him as he realized no one was in the vicinity of the side entrance, so he toed his way across the street, and flashed his access card to open the side door, kept locked only from the outside.

He paused when he entered, holding his breath for a moment or two, ears perked for listening. This place didn’t have an elevator, it was only a triple storey after all, and people tended to bump into each other on the dim stairwell.

But it was silent now, so he started to climb. His apartment was on the third floor, and with the added weight of another man, his heart was beating as if he’d run a marathon by the time he reached his floor. Carefully, he stepped into the main hallway area and paused for another listen.

He could hear the telltale sounds of parents shepherding their kids to bed. The screams of the couple two doors down as they bickered. The meows of the cat in 301 as it begged for extra food. So, nothing unusual. 

He shuffled down one hallway, then the next, then went around the corner of the third one, and walked to where his door stood. Luckily, he had a half-mind to grab his keys in one hand before he picked up the sleeping form of Pretty Boy which made his job of opening the apartment door easier. 

Once inside, he laid him on the couch and proceeded with his original plan, except this time, he’d have to use his apartment as the base of operation, instead. 

Ten minutes later, Kageyama Tobio, heir to one of the richest families in Japan, was currently, in an unbefitting manner, duct-taped to an old but comfortable armchair right in the middle of his apartment. Satisfied with his handiwork, Osamu glanced around the room one last time before making his way to the bathroom.

He showered quickly, wincing at the cold water that slapped his warm skin, washing his body, and his hair, until everything was red-raw, and perfectly clean. Though deep inside, he knew no amount of scrubbing would wash away the evidence of the bad deed he had committed today, and was still committing, in fact. 

Didn’t matter, he thought. He pretty much knew he was going to hell, anyways. Might as well enjoy the ride. 

He pulled on a pair of dark grey jeans, thick socks, and Atsumu’s black henley. His apartment was still quiet by the time he left the shower, as his hostage was still wandering the realm of dreams. The bedroom he (previously) shared with his twin was mostly occupied by a couple of deflating air mattresses, each shoved to a corner that marked the territory of its respective owner. 

Refusing to look at his brother’s side across, now empty and devoid of life, he lied down on his own mattress, hands behind his head. He wasn’t going to be sleeping anyways, but he allowed himself a moment of quiet, to collect his thoughts and go through the plan again, now with slight modification reflecting the current state of fuckery he was in.

Osamu sighed. To say that he was exhausted would be an understatement. He felt like shit. He felt like death. His eyes were wide open, mindlessly staring at the ceiling above him, his ears tuned in to different sounds around him; the the creaking of the old pipes in the building at rush of hot water, the noise from the expanding metal of the radiators as they struggled to heat up the room, car horns, slamming doors, people walking up and down the hallways, and all the other cacophony of downtown Tokyo at night. Mainly, though, his ears were largely tuned to what was most valued in his home; Kageyama Tobio. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed — a few minutes, or a few hours, everything was quite jumbled together at this point, until finally, his ears picked up the sound he had been patiently waiting for: a soft, but very much audible groan coming from the living room. 

Strengthening his resolve, he took a deep breath and made his way to the door. 

Show time.

* * *

**💙 Monday, 20:45 - Osamu’s apartment** **💙**

Osamu was a bad person, Tobio concluded. 

He wasn’t necessarily evil, but he wasn’t good either. He probably wouldn’t smile at the people who crossed his path on the streets, wouldn’t be polite to the cashiers who bagged his groceries at the supermarkets, nor would he be kind to the homeless people, the security guards, the bus drivers… and so and so and so. 

He was rude, moody, paranoid, and a certified sociopath. The type of person who would hold an award for ‘horrible citizens’ if such things even existed. 

Most importantly, though, Osamu was a bad person who kidnapped good people. Good people like Tobio. And Tobio _hated_ being kidnapped. 

So it begged the question.

Why was he agonizing over the fact that this man, _this criminal_ , disliked his dick?

He had a nice dick, _thank you very much!_ It wasn’t too big to be an inconvenience, and it wasn’t too small that he’d be embarrassed about it. Not that there was anything wrong with small penises, of course. In fact, once when he was thirteen years old, teenage hormones levels somewhere between the stratosphere and the mesosphere, he came across a forum post debating whether dick size mattered, and interestingly, some people actually preferred small penises as they apparently were great for anal, blow jobs, and vir — Why was he even _thinking_ about this now?! He was kidnapped, for fuck’s sake. By his soulmate, no less. 

His soulmate, whose name was Osamu, who Tobio had concluded was a bad person. 

“Fucking hell.” He muttered, vigorously shaking his head to stop his mind from thinking about dicks, and bring it back to focus on the current issue he was in. Now that the bane of his existence (soulmate) was out of the room and not glaring at him (extorting him), Tobio went over all the pieces of evidence he managed to gather so far. 

Osamu was definitely working for someone, or rather, was hired by someone, someone who had very obviously used physical force to have him agree to kidnap Tobio, judging by the bruises he sported on his face, as well as his barely concealed limp. Osamu didn’t appear to be armed, at least he didn’t seem to be in possession of a firearm from what Tobio could tell, but he had a great deal of physical strength, seeing as how he managed to carry him all the way up to the apartment. He also very clearly did not appreciate politeness, wealth, the concept of soulmates, and Tobio’s dick. 

Once again, however, the same nagging feeling kept coming back to him. Why had he been brought here, to Osamu’s own personal apartment? That was the strangest variable in the equation. He needed to gather more clues before he could formulate a proper plan. 

Then it occurred to him. They had _just_ found each other, _just_ been bound for all eternity. Newly formed soulbonds tended to be volatile, unpredictable, like a live wire, hot one minute, and cold the next. Kei had explained it to him one time, back then when he had just found Kuroo at the ripe age of nineteen. 

New soulmates were very impulsive, they had an irresistible urge to satisfy each other — sexually, emotionally, materialistically, or all at once. People would forgo their partners the moment they'd find their soulmates. As if suddenly, everything they’d built together with that person, all the love they shared, all the friendships, the ups and downs and everything in between, didn’t mean a damn thing anymore. Kei compared it to a switch that had been suddenly flipped; one moment they’re all about free-will and choosing one’s own happiness, and the next, they would be throwing money at their precious new soulmates, abandoning their kids, buying private jets and properties, and all other horrible things he heard from the lawyer that turned his ass purple.

According to Kei, a lot of people capitalized on this, too, mainly lawyers, which explained why most law school graduates would specialize in the domestic law field. Kei even admitted he considered following suit but only changed his mind to corporate law because Tobio had asked him to do so (more like drunk-dared him but that was a story for another time). 

So, Tobio, being the talented businessman that he was, needed to capitalize on that fact as well. By applying the right amount of pressure on the right spots, he could theoretically seduce his soulmate into giving him answers. And maybe have Osamu apologize for saying bad things about his dick (he didn’t say anything bad, but anyways). 

So with a plan in mind, Tobio turned his head to the direction of the hallway, and called out. “Osamu,” he tried to make his voice loud enough to be heard, but still breathy and low to be suggestive. He needed to cast the bait and wait for the fish to bite. “Osamu, come back, please.” 

Seconds later, he heard the shuffling of socked-feet on the concrete floor, and his soulmate stepping back into the room in full view, wearing that familiar disinterested expression on his face. 

“Changed yer mind?”

“Not really.” He turned to look him straight in the eyes, making sure to run his tongue across his lips slowly before saying, “I’m very, very thirsty.” 

Osamu leveled him with a long, calculated look, before he nodded his head and smiled. “Alright.” Then he turned and left in the direction of the kitchen. Tobio heard, more than saw, the door of the fridge being pulled open and closed, then a few seconds later, Osamu came back to the room.

He was carrying three bottles of water tucked under one arm, while his other hand wrapped around what Tobio assumed to be a couple of plastic straws. He lowered both the bottles and the straws on the table in the middle of the room, and took a seat on the couch across from him.

Tobio suddenly had second thoughts about his plan. Was he really going to refuse him water? He needed to take control of the situation. 

“So I feel like you have me at a little disadvantage.” He started, trying to break the ice once again, but the man just snorted at him. 

“Yer literally tied to a chair in my living room,” he said, eyebrows raised. “I’d say I have ya at more than just a little disadvantage.”

“Okay, fair point but that’s not what I meant.” He shifted as best he could with all the tape before continuing, “I meant that you’ve read my file so you clearly know a lot about me. And yet, I know nothing about you.”

“Everyone in Japan knows everything about ya, yer majesty.” Osamu said smugly, then, “But if ye wanna play twenty-one questions, then sure. Go ahead.”

Okay, that was unexpected, but he wasn’t the type to kick a horse gift in the mouth. 

“How old are you?” Tobio asked, genuinely interested. 

“Twenty-six.” He replied. 

So they were both the same age. Huh. Tobio had been really convinced that Osamu was at least a couple of years older than he was. Maybe being a fucking criminal aged one quicker. 

Okay that was mean. 

He cleared his throat, “Any siblings?” He prompted. 

Something akin to worry flashed in Osamu’s eyes, but he quickly composed himself. “A twin.”

A twin. Interesting. 

“Why one billion yen?” Tobio took a calculated risk, hoping that it wasn’t too soon to address the elephant in the room. 

“And why not?” He ground his teeth together. Could this guy be even more difficult?

“Well, as I said earlier, I’m not familiar with your profession but surely there’s got to be an easier way to get that much money? I don’t know. Like drug dealing or grand thef —“

Tobio’s eyes widened for a moment. He’d been so distracted by everything that was going on around him, that he had forgotten one important detail: how the hell did Osamu transport him from the company all the way to downtown Tokyo? 

Then he remembered unlocking his car before he was jumped, and his face darkened. 

This asshole had taken his car. His _baby_ . And _drove_ it. 

Tobio was furious. Enraged. Officially pissed-off. Nobody touched his car. _Nobody_. Soulmate or not. 

When he snapped his head back up to give Osamu a piece of his mind, he found him staring with a condescending look on his face, most probably realizing where this conversation was going. Then, before he could open his mouth to speak (yell), Osamu interrupted him. 

“Go ahead, ask me.” He leaned forward on the couch and Tobio all but wanted to claw at his perfectly perfect face. 

“Osamu,” he breathed, “What did you do to my car?”

Osamu just laughed at that. 

“What did you do to my car, Osamu?” He repeated, body straining against the duct-tape that held him in place. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, and he knew he was panting, lungs barely taking enough oxygen to keep up with the sudden rush of adrenaline. 

Osamu observed him, clearly enjoying his current state of torment. They stayed like this for a couple of minutes, gazes locked, neither refusing to back down. Then, when Osamu finally had his fill, he picked up one of the water bottles, twisted the cap and took a long sip, before clearing his throat, “Relax yer majesty. I hid it somewhere safe. You’ll get it back once you give me the money.”

Tobio refused to ‘relax’ but still reclined back on his seat nonetheless, teeth grinding together. He had thought he was doing a good job leading the conversation (and ignoring the intrusive thoughts of being in the presence of his soulmate, close enough to see, but way too far to touch). Unfortunately, though, he was wrong. He stared at an area on the wall beyond Osamu’s head where a portion of the paint was peeling, until he was sure he was composed enough to speak again. 

“Why one billion?” This time, it came as a whisper, with an underlying threat. He hadn’t intended for it to sound like that but his patience was wearing thin and he was so utterly, unbearably _thirsty._ For water. And for something else he refused to think about. 

“Because I’m in dept.” Osamu answered, finally, though he looked confused. 

“In debt? To whom?”

Osamu licked his lips, barely hiding a small wince when his tongue accidentally brushed the wound on the left side. “Why can’t I resist ya?”

What. The. Actual. Fuck. 

Tobio blinked. Once. Twice. Then he shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I dunno, I just have this sudden urge to answer yer stupid questions.” Osamu said, a small frown forming on his face. 

Oh. Right. That. So their soulmate thing was _finally_ working.

Tobio was tempted to keep this knowledge to himself, to use it to his advantage, but the confused puppy-look on Osamu’s face, and the way he absently scratched the back of his neck were absolutely adorable. 

And Tobio was a dog person. And a weak man. 

“It’s the soulmate thing,” He explained. ”You’re obligated to answer my questions because a higher mystical power decreed so.” 

“Mystical power?” Osamu tilted his head to the side, his frown deepened and fuck if that wasn’t the cutest thing ever. 

Tobio offered him a small smile, “Just be thankful I’m not asking you to rob a bank or father my children or something.”

“Is that something ya want?” He asked suddenly, head snapping back up to look at Tobio. 

“Um, what?”

“Have children. Is it something ya want?” 

Tobio wanted to combust. For once since this whole fiasco had started, he was glad to be in a dimly lit room because he was more than certain that right now, his face could be easily compared to a tomato. His brain-to-mouth filter had once again screwed him over. 

He was about to backtrack but the look of genuine curiosity on Osamu's face made him pause. 

Wait, did _he_ want to have children?

“Do you want children?” This time, it was Tobio’s turn to tilt his head. 

So this wasn’t technically going in the direction he had hoped, but he could recognize an olive branch when he saw one, and this right here was Osamu’s version of an olive branch. 

“Give me the money.” Fuck, he spoke too soon. 

And just like that, the spell was broken, and mister Asshole was back.

Tobio closed his eyes and clenched his teeth again. He was frustrated. No, he was angry, but he knew that all the anger in the world wouldn’t be strong enough to set him free from fuck-knows-how-much duct-tape Osamu had used on him. He bit back an insult and opened his eyes. “No.”

“Why not? Ya clearly have it. Hell, ya probably have more.”

“It’s not about the money, you big, stupid, idiot! It’s about the principle!” He was yelling at this point. Politeness and decorum be damned. “If you hadn’t drugged me, kidnapped me, duct-taped me to a fucking chair, and now refused to give me water, I would have gladly, _gladly,_ showered you with more money than your tiny, little, jellyfish brain could ever imagine.”

Jellyfish didn’t even have brains but he couldn’t care less about the semantics. 

Tobio was panting, his breath coming in short staggered puffs and he could feel beads of sweat collecting on his eyebrows. He was tired, extremely irritated, and just about done with his soulmate’s bullshit. 

When he finally risked a glance at the reason for his misery, he found Osamu looking between him and the two full water bottles on the table. It wasn’t a look of joy or satisfaction. In fact, Tobio even dared to say he looked rather embarrassed, ashamed, absolutely mortified by his outburst. 

Then, after a few seconds of what Tobio assumed was an internal struggle between allowing him some water or leaving him to die (maybe not, but still), Osamu finally got up to open one of the bottles, picked a straw, and held it up to his mouth. 

Tobio had to tilt his head up a bit since Osamu refused to lean down to his level. He didn’t miss the way his soulmate’s eyes scoured his face, lingering on the pouty lips currently wrapped around the plastic straw, how he glanced lower at the exposed length of his neck and his sharp, bony clavicles, only to raise his eyes back up to his and trap their gazes together. 

When he had his fill, he released the straw with a satisfying pop, licked his lips, and watched as Osamu screwed the cap back on the bottle before placing it down on the table again. 

“Is his majesty happy?” Osamu asked.

Tobio rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you so much for offering me the barest of bare minimum levels of basic human decency.”

Osamu snorted at his response. “Yer welcome.” And slunk away from the room, back through the ominous hallway and to whatever laid beyond. 

Tobio sighed in defeat. He needed to approach this from a different angle if he were to regain his freedom (and be with his soulmate), and preferably, before his time was up. 

With his head resting on the back of the chair, he recalled what Osamu had told him just now. He needed the money to pay a debt of some sort, which meant that this whole kidnapping thing wasn’t a power move against his family, but rather an act of desperation by someone who had absolutely nothing to lose. 

There was also that flicker of _something_ that crossed Osamu’s face when he mentioned his twin. Both of them were clearly involved (albeit unwilling) in this operation, but Tobio didn’t know how, yet. 

The only way to get to the bottom of this, was to convince Osamu to tell him everything about this mysterious debt and the mysterious person who was calling the shots. 

But evidently, it was easier said than done. The man was as stubborn as a mule.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for the chapter is from Our Demons by The Glitch Mob.


	4. Don't You Ever Leave Me Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warnings for:
> 
> \- Panic attacks  
> \- Vomiting
> 
> Be advised!!
> 
> Fic playlist on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4VwO2e2GwzbhVX05Jg3FNX)!!

**🍙 Monday, 22:37 - Miya’s Apartment 🍙**

Kageyama Tobio wasn’t just the heir to the richest family in Japan — he was also Osamu’s soulmate, and Osamu didn’t know what to think. He never wanted anyone. He never wanted a soulmate. He took precautions to avoid it, but it happened anyway. 

Kageyama Tobio and Miya Osamu were soulmates, and he couldn’t understand why. 

Maybe it was written in the stars, or maybe it was because a ‘mystical power’ willed it, or maybe it was fate that brought them together, two halves finally becoming one, just like his mother had said. But he knew that just because they were soulmates, it did not mean they were meant to be.

No, Osamu was _certain_ they were not meant to be.

They weren’t meant to be even when Tobio had breathed the inscription on his forearm, words tumbling down from his pouty lips as if compelled by a higher power, as if possessed by something beyond his understanding, making his heart stutter and his breath catching in his throat. 

They weren’t meant to be even when their skin had accidentally touched, and he felt a flush spreading through him, like a crown fire burning up trees their entire lengths, all the way to the top. 

And they were most definitely not meant to be even now when he was hiding in the safety of his bedroom, the heels of his hands digging hard into his eye sockets, as the euphoria of being in the presence of his soulmate still lingered like the rain from a storm on his skin, somehow begging him to go back under the downpour. 

It wasn’t like he never considered the possibility of meeting his soulmate before. It was just that he never actively tried to find them, never wanted to. More importantly, he never considered the possibility that his soulmate would end up being someone like Kageyama Tobio nor it happening the way it did.

When the adrenaline rush had finally subsided, and the blinding realization had hit him like a punch to the face, that he’d just drugged and kidnapped his soulmate, his heart sank through his body.

Leave it to him to be the orchestrator of his own personal ruin.

With a weary sigh, Osamu opened his eyes and traced his finger along the inscription on the inside of his left forearm. 

_‘You smell… nice’_

Just like with everyone else in the world, these words appeared on his skin when he was twelve, and he distinctly remembered it had felt like ants were crawling on his skin, but he thought nothing of it. Ants were a common occurrence in their house, what with their mother’s obsession with nature, and houseplants, and gardening, even though they lived in a small apartment, barely fit enough to house four people.

It didn’t reveal itself all at once, and again, he’d thought nothing of it, that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Soulmarks were unique to each person, after all. It took a month or so before the faint smudges became letters with straight lines, etched in black across his pale skin. He thought it looked neat, starting exactly in the middle of his forearm and all the way down to his wrist. 

Atsumu wasn’t really that interested in understanding the particulars of the soulmate concept, he was just content with the idea that someone out there was waiting for him. But Osamu? Osamu liked to nag his mother about it every chance he got, and she was always accommodating, always patient with him, courteous, kind, looking at him with big grey eyes, and a soft smile on her lips.

“They’re a gift, Samu.” She’d say, sitting in the dark-green chair by the window, her cup of tea long forgotten on the coffee table. “Yer soulmate is the one person in the whole world who is destined to be with you.”

Osamu would frown at his mother, looking exactly like a twelve-year-old trying to solve the mysteries of the universe. “Destined? What if they get bored?”

His mother would ruffle his hair with a glint in her eyes. “Yer soulmate is like a friend. The best friend yer ever gonna have. Before ya were a tiny little baby, yer soul was split in half. One is with ya, and the other is with yer soulmate, and when fate brings ya together, the two halves will become one again.”

“Split in half?” He remembered his eyes widening after hearing those words leave his mother’s mouth. “I don’t want a soulmate, then! I don’t wanna be split in half!”

He remembered her laughter, unrestrained, and so full of mirth. “No baby, not like that. What I meant is that one day, you’ll find someone who would love you more than anything in the world. And it’ll make ya feel complete.”

At the time, he just nodded his head. Not really understanding what his mother was talking about. The thought of being split into two, of sharing a part of him with someone else other than Tsumu was confusing. Still, he looked forward to the day he’d finally meet his soulmate. 

But then he turned thirteen and things changed.

He turned thirteen and watched as the blood gushed out of his mother’s mouth when she fell on the ground. He turned thirteen and watched as his father got shot once, twice, thrice in his chest, his eyes rolling back into his head as he took his last breath. He turned thirteen and watched as the men who murdered his parents walked away through the front door of his home, as if nothing had happened. 

That night, Osamu made a promise to never look for his soulmate, to run from them if he ever met them, or scare them away, or keep them at a distance, because that night, thirteen-year-old Osamu had lost everything except his brother, and the thought of having someone else to lose, someone who supposedly held the other half of his soul terrified him.

Fast forward seven years later, and he still hadn’t met his soulmate yet. There was a moment, one brief fleeting second when the words on his arm burned hot one night. He had been sleeping off a headache from a flu and it woke him up suddenly. That moment was the closest he’d felt to his soulmate ever since the words materialized on his arms all those years ago. 

The next day, however, he chalked up the reaction to it being a fever dream he didn't remember. He was happy enough without a soul mate. It would get lonely sometimes, yes, but he had his brother to keep him company, and the comforting knowledge that his soulmate wouldn’t have to face the broken soul that he was. But above that, he firmly believed that having a soulmate would be nothing but a liability. A distraction. A weakness. Just another pawn for the oyabun to use against him. 

His brother didn’t share his sentiment, of course. Atsumu had always been inclined to express his feelings of love and fondness, be it romantically or otherwise. And he also sought it from others, too. And while he grew up to become closed-off and cold, his brother had grown to be affectionate and approachable. 

He had called it ‘being normal’. 

They were just like the yin and yang, complementary to each other but opposing in nature. And it wasn’t just the soulmate thing they disagreed on but it was the most recurring subject they discussed, or rather, argued about. 

There was one particular conversation that he kept recalling. It was on their twenty-first birthday. They went out to a bar to celebrate their first ‘official’ drink, when the topic of soulmates came up again. 

His brother had shifted in his seat, absently picking at the label of his third bottle of melon beer for the evening, when he spoke up carefully, aiming for it to be a passing filler and not an actual suggestion. “Ya ever thought about trying to find ‘em?” he had said, gesturing to where Osamu’s arms were currently resting on the table they had huddled to when they got here. 

He’d narrowed his eyes at him, his back and shoulders becoming tense as he opened his mouth to speak. "Ya know as well as I do that soulmates aren't a good idea for us."

“But remember what Kasan used to say? ‘Bout how yer soulmate would never turn their back on ya, ‘bout how it is someone ya can trust,” he’d given him a sad half smile back then, his speech slurring from the alcohol he’d been consuming non-stop, “How it might make things easier? Make life more beara—”

"Or make things worse.” Osamu had interrupted, not really comprehending what his drunk twin was trying to say. “Don’t be an idiot, ‘Tsumu. It's dangerous to get too close to someone, for both them and us. Our soulmates are better off not knowing us, and we them.”

His brother had huffed, choosing to take a long sip of his beer instead. He knew his words fell on deaf ears, anyways. Even though he never said it out loud, Osamu knew his brother yearned for his soulmate, all consequences be damned. And of course he wasn’t going to deny him that right. He just hoped that by the time he’d find them, they’d be free from the clutches of the old rotten bastard that made their lives miserable. 

And as he got older, he became more desensitized to the whole soulmate thing. He could look at the words on his left forearm with a passive interest, as if they were nothing more than an annoyance, an unfulfilled promise, a weakness. Maybe every now and then when life wasn’t kicking his ass, and the days were a little bit brighter, he could admit that the idea of having a soulmate, of meeting them, of loving them, was somewhat romantic. He’d idly wonder if his soulmate was a happy person, with a beautiful smile on their face. Someone who was capable of showing genuine kindness and compassion. Someone who could look at him the same way his parents looked at each other. 

On those days, the words soulmark and soulmate would twist themselves around in his head, dress themselves up in a certain way and make him dream and hope and want. But those days were few and far in-between, and oftentimes, life had a way of reminding him of his fucked-up existence. 

So for years, he considered himself to be ambivalent when it came to the words on his arm and their significance, where he both yearned to find his soulmate, to be with them, but also hated himself for being weak, for allowing such thoughts to bounce around in his head. 

That was until he turned twenty-six. Until today. Until two hours ago. Until he found him. Until he drugged him, _kidnapped_ him, and tied him to a chair. 

Osamu wanted to laugh at his luck, maybe scream, maybe cry. He wanted to light a cigarette just to put it out on his skin, just to make him feel something, anything other than this roller coaster of emotions inside of him. 

And now that this pantomime had reached its final conclusion, it came down to this: For the past fourteen years of his life, Osamu had wanted nothing more than for his soulmate to never find him. To leave him alone. To live their lives, blissfully unaware of his existence. 

And it also came down to this: The last couple of hours left him winded as if he were underwater and drowning, as if something kept pulling him down and down and down, all until his airways closed, and his lungs were completely helpless against the current rushing in. A couple of hours. That was all it took.

Served him right for thinking he could go against nature, against fate. 

And suddenly, Miya Osamu had never wanted anyone, had never wanted a _soulmate_ as much as he wanted Kageyama Tobio. 

And suddenly, he had one more thing to lose. 

He shook his head, and glanced at the clock on his makeshift bedside table, constructed solely from a shipping box that was held together by duct-tape, green digits flashing up at him like disco lights. It was 22:47. Only twenty hours left for the deadline and he had made no progress whatsoever in trying to intimidate (beg) his hostage (soulmate) into giving him the money. In fact, the only thing he had successfully managed to do was to piss him off.

When Tobio had snapped at him earlier, pointing out all the fucked up things he’d done, something inside him shattered, and an ache he’d never experienced before pierced his heart. It was a feeling of guilt mixed with disappointment mixed with shame and he all but fled to his room, slamming the door shut. He sat there for an hour, staring at the wall across from him, tiredness pulled at his eyes, but he couldn’t let himself sleep. He tried to convince himself that he wasn’t running away, that this was an intimidation tactic, that leaving Tobio alone with his thoughts might force some sense into him and change his mind about paying the ransom, but Osamu wasn’t pretentious enough to not recognize his own lies. 

The wind outside picked up a bit and he could see a layer of frost forming on the small window above his head, the water from the rain earlier finally freezing as the temperature dropped. Yet he couldn’t feel any of that cold. 

His soulmate’s words burned on his arm and it hurt him, but he knew it wasn’t real, that it was something akin to a phantom pain — where nerves tried to ‘recover’ after a traumatic injury, but ended up sending pain signals instead because something was wrong. And something was indeed wrong with him but he wasn’t ready to open that can of worms, yet. So he tried to distract himself, tapping mindlessly on his phone, debating whether or not to call Suna, to check on Atsumu. 

They had to have made it out of Tokyo by now, safe in Kita-san’s farm. As long as Osamu got the money to pay the oyabun for Atsumu’s transgressions, and their freedom, they both were safe. Or as safe as they could be. 

He distracted himself briefly with the thought of his brother farming rice and looking after animals when the shrill of his phone ringing snapped him out of his daydreaming. 

Osamu blinked stupidly, watching the device vibrate in his hand. Nobody was supposed to be calling him at this time. The oyabun gave him forty eight hours to get the money, and he still had twenty hours left. The number flashing on the screen wasn’t assigned to any of his contacts, but it had the Tokyo area code so it was local. 

When he realized he was supposed to be answering it, he straightened on the bed and tapped his thumb on the ‘accept’ icon, holding it to his ear.

“Yes?” He said, hoping his voice didn’t reflect the sudden uneasiness that churned his stomach. 

At first, he heard nothing through the speaker, and the more the seconds passed in silence the more apprehensive he became. Then, four or five beats later, Osamu managed to make out the sound of someone taking shuddery breaths in the background.

“S— Samu?” A voice, not different from his own, quavered from the other end. 

Osamu stared at the wall in front of him, dazed and unable to move. His heart pounded in his chest, and the hand that was holding the phone to his ear shook so hard that he almost dropped it on the floor. 

Fuck. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck._

“T— Tsumu? Atsumu are — Where’re ya?” He asked, voice barely audible enough to be heard. His brother shouldn’t be calling him from an unlisted number, he should be safe and sound with Kita-san.

“Samu listen to me, okay? You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to —” Then he heard the sickening thud of a punch over the phone, and the sound of a body hitting the floor, and it took all of his willpower not to throw up right there in the middle of his room. 

“Ah. I never thought little piss-blond Miya over here would be overprotective of his brother.” Another voice said this time, monotonous and perfectly unbothered. “You see, Osamu...You’ve been a bad boy, and bad boys need to be punished.”

Osamu was paralyzed. His vision was distorted, as if he were looking through a spy-glass. This was his worst nightmare realized, the thing that scared him the most, the thing that kept him up at night. 

He couldn’t breathe. It felt as if someone was choking him, crushing his windpipes, and all he wanted was to curl up into a ball and wait for someone to save him. But he knew no one would. No one was there. No one cared about Miya Osamu. He could barely muffle the choked cry escaping his throat, hoping that the person on the other end missed it. 

“What’s the meaning of this? I thought we had an agreement. What do ya want?”

“Glad you asked. I don’t want to take more of your time. I know how busy you are at the moment, so I’ll just make this quick.” The voice continued, completely nonchalant. “I don’t like how you tried to undermine me by sending your brother away before you paid the debt. So being the kind gentleman that I am, I asked some good samaritans to bring him back. Free of charge of course. You can all be reunited when you get the money. But until then, little Atsumu will be our guest.” Then the man on the other end of the line just hummed before he disconnected the call.

This time, he couldn’t hold it in him as he turned to vomit the contents of his stomach into the trashbin he kept next to his bed, his vision blurry from the watery tears that rushed down his cheeks. 

His world was about to crumble, or rather, had crumbled already. 

He didn’t know how much time had passed since the call had ended. He was still clutching the bin, his hands gripping the rim so tightly that he felt it crack under the pressure. Breathing was hard, and he struggled to get enough air in his lungs. He could feel the panic subsiding, bit by bit, but he simply didn’t have the luxury to wait it out fully. He needed to get the ransom money, one way or another. 

Shakily, Osamu stepped out of his hiding place and into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and spread his hands across, his warm forehead resting against the cool painted wood.

So far, none of his intimidation tactics had worked. He tried to reason with him, he tried to be friendly, he even threatened him with physical harm, but his soulmate remained unfazed. There was only one thing left for him to try, and the idea of being forced into doing it made him sick. But he was caught between a rock and a hard place, and between Atsumu and Kageyama Tobio, well, the choice was clear. 

He washed his mouth out, splashed some water on his face, and headed out of the bathroom, directly to the kitchen. He felt Tobio’s eyes tracking his movements but he refused to acknowledge him. 

“I thought you’ve completely forgotten about me.” He said, voice a bit raspy from not being used for a while. He was craning his head forward, trying to look at what he was doing, his whole body strained against the tape.

Osamu ignored him. He picked a water bottle from the fridge and downed most of it, wiping a few of the droplets that managed to escape with his arm. Then, he opened the drawer next to the small electrical cook, rummaging around until he found his father’s old Chinese cleaver. He grabbed it and walked over to where his soulmate hostage was currently taped and sat down carefully on the wooden table right across from Tobio. The table creaked a bit, struggling against his added weight but it held.

Osamu lifted the cleaver so that Tobio could clearly see it. Could clearly understand the not-so-hidden message he tried to convey. He was a bad interrogator, and his persuasion skills were almost non-existent. But the fact of the matter was that his brother’s life was in danger and he wasn’t above using violence to save him. It wouldn’t be the first time anyway. 

He glanced at Tobio, trying to gauge his reaction, to see if this clear threat had managed to strike something in him, but the man remained as impassive as ever. Hell, he looked even more relaxed in his seat than before, as if this whole thing was just a farce, an inconvenience that needed to be quickly dealt with and not a life-or-death situation. 

“I see you’re running out of ideas.” Tobio spoke again, in his smooth and refined upper-class accent that infuriated Osamu so much. 

“One billion yen.” He said, leveling him with a look. 

“No,” He replied, gaze lazily lowering to the cleaver Osamu held tightly in his hand before sweeping back up to his face. 

If the yakuza didn’t kill him first then this man’s apathy surely will. Was the fool even taking any of this seriously?!

Barely managing to stifle a scream, Osamu lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of Tobio’s hair forcing his head to tip all the way to the back. He held the cleaver only a few inches away from his throat, and locked their eyes together. This was the closest he’d been to him. The blackness of his pupils were surrounded by liquid pools of dark-blue waters that stood out against the fairness of his skin. His lips were parted as he couldn’t fully close his mouth from how hard Osamu was pulling at his hair.

For a moment, they were just stuck there, neither moving, nor breathing, and neither were certain what the other might do next. Despite that, one thing remained clear to him. Tobio wasn’t afraid. Not even when he slightly moved the cleaver forward so that it was pushing fully against the taut skin of his exposed throat. 

Nothing was getting through to him and Osamu was running out of time. More strangely, he felt an invisible force preventing him from even thinking about harming his hostage which caused him to cry out in frustration before spinning around and throwing the cleaver on the table he was just sitting on. He raked both hands through his hair before clutching them into fists to stop them from shaking. 

“In case you didn’t know,” Tobio began from somewhere behind him, “You can’t hurt me. Not because I think you’re incapable of doing so, but because we’re soulmates. We’re powerless against one other.” 

A humorless laugh escaped him. Powerless against each other. Yeah, right. From where he was standing, it seemed like it was just Osamu who was powerless to Tobio, and never the other way around. 

“If we’re so fucking powerless to each other, then why can’t ya just give me the damn money?” He shouted at him, whipping around so quickly to grab onto the chair’s (and Tobio’s) arms, bringing them to eye-level. 

Tobio studied him with piercing scrutiny, not saying anything for a long time as they stared at each other, only the sound of Osamu’s rattling breath filled the air. Then, all at once, his soulmate leaned forward as far as he could manage and kissed him. 

If Osamu had thought that their first touch was intense, then this was pure and utter intoxication. The shock that ran down the length of his body was so powerful it left him tingling and hot, like he was in a daze and couldn’t breathe to save his life. He was drowning, but he didn’t want to stop. 

And it wasn’t just a brush of lips against each other. It was a proper kiss, and he opened his mouth to it, felt the brief stutter of the other man’s hot breath as he maneuvered his tongue inside, and then nothing was enough. So he kissed him roughly, their mouths bruising against one another, and Osamu had a sudden, desperate need to touch his skin.

Grabbing the back of Tobio’s head in one hand, he pulled him closer, and chased after his soulmate's mouth, tugging hard at his black strands while his other hand slid across his flushed neck. 

The sudden brush of skin on his neck made Tobio gasp, his body arching against the chair as he tried to move as close as possible with the tapes keeping his hands in place and all Osamu wanted to do was to kiss him until they went numb and couldn’t think anymore.

But then, realization suddenly seemed to dawn on him and he pulled away quickly, eliciting a whine out of Tobio’s throat at the abrupt loss of physical contact.

“Fucking hell.” He snapped, taking a few steps back. He scrubbed at his lips with the sleeve of his henley before he went to the kitchen again, retreating with quick steps. He didn’t bother to spare Tobio a second glance as he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer.

It was supposed to be Tobio who was stuck with him. It was supposed to be Tobio who was his hostage. It was supposed to be him who had the upper hand. But somehow, he felt like he was the one at Tobio’s mercy. Like he was the one trapped. 

_Fuck him_ , Osamu’s mind was saying breathlessly. _Fuck him and his perfect face and his perfect voice and his perfect lips. Fuck. Him._

He took a sip of his beer before turning back to Tobio, a sneer drawn across his mouth, “Yer a fucking piece of shit, y’know that?”

“Am I a piece of shit for wanting to kiss my soulmate?”

“Ya didn’t kiss me, ya tricked me!” Osamu glowered.

“Oh my god, get off your high horse,” Tobio rolled his eyes at him, “Look, I’m a businessman so let’s negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” Osamu shouted at him as he strode back into the room. “This isn’t a business deal for fuck’s sake.”

“My family is very powerful, they can help you. _I_ can help you.” Tobio sighed, exasperation clear in his voice. “Just let me in.”

“Ya wanna help me so bad? Then give me the fucking money.” 

“Money won’t solve anything! When will you understand.”

“Spoken like a true privileged son of a bitch.” Osamu rolled his eyes at the audacity. Of course someone as rich as him would claim such a thing. “Money solves everything. At least it’ll solve my problems.” 

He paced behind the couch for a couple of minutes, trying to calm himself down before he focused his eyes back on the man again. 

“Look, just give me the money, and I’ll untie ya and we can just... pretend this whole thing never happened.” He pleaded, praying to a god he didn’t believe in that his soulmate would finally see reason. 

“First, I’m not giving you any money. Second, this is a tape and therefore can’t be untied. And lastly, if you think I’m letting my soulmate go just like that, then you’re completely delusional.” Tobio stated, matter-of-factly. “I don’t know how many times I have to say this but, we're stuck together. So, now tell me about that debt.” 

“If I tell ya, does it increase the probability of ya actually paying the ransom?”

“No, not really. But it would satisfy my curiosity if nothing else”. Tobio’s half-impassive face was as much an answer as his dry tone. 

Osamu sighed. It was becoming increasingly hard not to think about the way Tobio’s mouth felt against his when they kissed earlier. He wanted him, so fucking much, like he never wanted anything before and it drove him insane. He was literally sitting in front of him, but Osamu couldn’t do anything about it.

Then a terrible, horrible idea came to him. If his soulmate was depraved enough to use their bond against him, then he was just as depraved, if not more. They were soulmates after all. 

With this (terrible, horrible) plan in mind, he set his half-full bottle on the table, then he climbed up on the armchair, with one of his knees resting right between Tobio’s thighs and his other leg pressing firmly on the floor to keep him from falling. Tobio’s blue eyes widened as he stared dumbfoundedly at him. His lips were still wet and swollen from their earlier kiss, and his face wore a blush that was clearly visible even in the dimness of the room. 

“Osamu?” He asked, his voice low, nearly a whisper in the wake of this turn of events. 

But Osamu ignored him, instead, he grabbed his chin and brought their mouths close together in another kiss. Except this time, it was slow and languid and slick and breathy. Osamu kissed him like he was the most precious thing, like he was the only one who could save him in this fucked up world, like he wasn’t trying to coerce him into paying a ransom. He knew it was wrong but he didn’t care. Tobio opened his lips for him and he felt himself blush as their tongues touched again, firm and determined and so goddamn sweet, he couldn’t stop himself from moaning. 

He watched as Tobio tilted his head all the way back, pulling away from him, his eyes closed, and his chest heaving as he struggled to control his breathing.

“O..samu. Don’t do this.” He begged.

Slowly, he pulled back to look at his soulmate, just far enough to see how red and bruised those pouty lips had gotten, how dazed his now open eyes were. 

Osamu’s body was like a tsunami, and it was just a kiss. He suppressed a shudder as he considered how other _activities_ might make him feel. Then leaned back in, close enough that their breaths mingled, but not yet touching.

“So is it only okay if yer the one doing it?” He whispered against his lips.

He felt him shudder against him, clearly struggling to keep himself from letting go. From surrendering.

“That’s not — ” He shook his head, his eyes clearing up as he spoke. “Look, please just... Not like this.” 

There was sweat everywhere on him, soaking his henley and his hair. He took an unsteady breath before stepping away from Tobio, wiping a thumb across his lips. He knew this plan was a terrible idea but he had to try anyway. 

“Just give me the money and all of this will be over.” He said again, for what felt like the millionth time this evening.

“God, Osamu, you’re beginning to sound like a parrot.” Tobio groaned in irritation, his forehead was glistening with sweat and his face was flushed. “This isn’t going anywhere. Cut me loose and we can talk about this like civilized people.”

“Give me the money.” He ignored him.

“No.” 

“Give me the money.”

“No.”

“Give me the mon —”

“No! No! No!”

“Damn it, why?” Osamu snarled.

“I told you why.” He rolled his eyes. “It won’t change anything!”

“It will save my brother’s life!”

“If you truly believe that, then you’re far more dense than I thought.” He said, and before Osamu could open his mouth to protest, Tobio cut him off, “Those people you’re gladly getting on your knees for won’t be satisfied no matter how much money you pay them. So unless you’re planning on sucking dicks for the rest of your life, figuratively or otherwise, you better start explaining this shitshow to me so that I can fucking. Help. You. Out.”

Osamu punched him. Hard. 

He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted. Tobio had been nothing but a little shit the entire night, since the moment he woke up three hours ago. At this point, the rich fuck was literally asking for it. How dare he speak to him like this? He didn’t know shit about Osamu. About the things he had to endure, the pain, the beating, the humiliation. The bastard probably never had to live through a single bad day his entire life. So how dare he — 

Then he noticed the blood trickling down from Tobio’s nose and his face paled as he realized what had just happened, what he’d just done. 

His mind rushed to say something, to do something, but not a word came out. He was paralyzed on the spot. As if everything that was on his mind, every thought, every emotion, were completely sucked out. All that his eyes could see was Tobio, his _soulmate_ , currently bleeding in front of him. Because of him. Because he hurt him. 

Osamu’s mouth hung with lips slightly parted and his eyes were as wide as they could stretch. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t save his brother’s life. He hurt his soulmate. He was worthless. He was weak. He didn’t deserve to live. He didn’t _want_ to live. 

“Tobi — I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry —” He choked on his words as hot tears blurred his vision. 

Osamu entirely lost it then, what little composure he had completely shattered as he fell to the ground, his head hitting the hard concrete with a loud thud.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He chanted breathlessly, “I can’t I can’t I can’t — ”

He felt light in the head, lighter than he had his whole life but something kept him from going under, from slipping away, and he tried to grasp on that _something_. To hold onto it as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did. 

Through the fog, he heard the faint voice of someone calling his name. It sounded composed yet somewhat frenetic and he tuned into it because what else could he do otherwise. 

“Osamu, listen to my voice. Focus on my voice. Please just breathe. Please. You’ll be alright I promise you. But just breathe.”

He felt dizzy from hitting his head, and the world was closing in on him, threatening to swallow him whole but he listened. He took a deep breath, trying to swallow the panic in his chest. 

_Just breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter is from The War by SYML.


	5. Set Me Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warnings for:
> 
> \- Detailed description of a panic attack
> 
> Fic playlist on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4VwO2e2GwzbhVX05Jg3FNX)!!

**💙 Monday, 23:01 - Osamu’s apartment** **💙**

Kageyama Tobio was a privileged person.

He wasn’t the type to hold a spot in Forbes' list of the world's ‘Richest People’, but he knew he was. He was a privileged person who grew up in a perfect world where money was never an issue, and whatever his heart desired was seen to. He lived in a nice home, went to remarkably good schools, managed a world-class company, had the best circle of friends anyone could ask for... and so and so and so. 

But even as a privileged person, Kageyama Tobio knew pain. 

He had recognized pain on the day of his seventh birthday. His parents had gone on a business trip the day before and left him alone with Miwa and his grandpa. They didn’t even bother to call. He had felt pain the first time when he broke his leg in middle school while playing volleyball. He spent the entirety of that summer wearing a cast, with only his mobile phone and his PSP to keep him company. He had known pain the day his grandfather passed away when he was fifteen. He cried so hard that he got an eye infection that week. He had seen pain in his sister’s eyes when her cat had gotten sick and had to be put to sleep, just before she left Japan to study abroad.

Suffice it to say, Kageyama Tobio had known privilege, and had known pain. But he had never experienced pain, excruciating and gut-wrenching, the way that he was now. 

He was hurting, and it had nothing to do with his throbbing cheek or his bleeding nose. White spots were dancing behind his eyelids as he clenched them shut. His heart felt as though it was one second away from exploding painfully in his chest as he watched Osamu, his  _ soulmate _ , crying hot fat tears frantically on the floor only few centimeters from where he was (forcibly) sitting, pitifully battling the throes of a sudden panic attack. A panic attack that he had, more or less, contributed to triggering.

He felt the prickle of tears in his eyes, and he blinked them away quickly. Focusing instead on the man in front of him. 

Osamu was looking at Tobio, or rather, looking through him as he continued to mutter incoherent apologies, his shaking hands grasping blindly at the hem of his shirt. His breathing was coming in short panicked gasps as his body shook furiously. Out of all of the things he’d imagined Osamu would be doing this evening, he thought this might be the worst. 

When Tobio finally unfroze from the shock of seeing the blood coming out of his nose after being punched in the face  _ and _ seeing his soulmate fall apart because of it, he pulled against the duct tape holding him in place but it was tightly wrapped. He groaned in frustration, and inspected his surroundings, again, trying to think of a way to cut himself loose but alas nothing was available. 

Osamu needed him and he couldn't even offer a comforting touch. He wanted to collapse to the ground and wrap his arms around him. To kiss him and comfort him and protect him. But he couldn’t. Tobio swallowed the knot in his throat. His own breath hitching at the tremulous feeling overwhelming him at the moment. For now, the only thing he could do is to guide him through this panic attack, to reassure him that he was forgiven. He took a deep breath and dragged his gaze back to him.

“Osamu, listen to my voice. Focus on my voice. Please just breathe. Please. You’ll be alright I promise you. But just breathe.” His voice was soft in the darkness of the apartment, but still loud enough to be heard. 

He couldn’t stand seeing him like this. Whoever had hurt him this much would pay greatly, for every tear Osamu spilled because of them. That was a promise he made to himself that moment. 

“Breathe, slower. Osamu.” He urged gently, trying his best to keep his voice from shaking, “You’re doing it too fast.” 

Osamu looked up sharply at the mention of his name and Tobio was all but consumed by the look in his eyes. Pale and stormy and slightly manic, glimmering with tears that continued to fall.

Tobio could tell he was trying to breathe, trying to stop whatever awful feeling he was experiencing at the moment, but he was doing it too rapidly and so hard that he was depriving himself of oxygen.

“Breathe with me, Osamu.” Tobio inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. He kept on repeating the breathing exercise he’d learned a long time ago to control his anxiety, all while making sure that the other man was focused on him. Then, after more than a few failed attempts, Osamu managed to somewhat follow his lead, to inhale and exhale with him in the same rhythm.

“That’s right. You’re doing good.” He said, voice calm and soothing, “It’ll be over soon.” 

They sit like that for a while, with Tobio whispering gentle encouragement to him, even when he was uncertain if the other man had the capacity to hear his words to begin with. Eventually, Osamu managed to match his breathing to Tobio’s and he was no longer gasping for air like a helpless drowning man. 

“I’m so— rry, I’m sorry.” He stuttered, tears trailing their way down from the corner of his eyes onto the hard concrete. Tobio was suddenly reminded of a scared child who had unintentionally done something wrong and wanted to disappear. The sight made his body ache. He wanted to reach out to him, to soothe him and kiss his tears away.

“Osamu. I’m here. Look at me. I’m here. I forgive you. I’m okay and I’m not in pain right now, see? I’m okay.” He said firmly, trying to coax his soulmate back to reality and away from whatever horrid thoughts that had put him in such a catatonic state.

“I hurt you, T-Tobi. I hurt you.” Osamu hiccuped, looking like all he wanted was to shrink into himself. He kept his eyes fixed on Tobio. As if he were the only thing keeping him sane, the only thing keeping him alive.

“Osamu,” he said softly, his hands tightening around the edges of the chair, “Osamu, it’s okay. You hurt me but people make mistakes. And this was a mistake. An accident. I know you didn’t mean it and I probably deserved it anyway, but I forgive you. Do you hear me?”

Osamu nodded, inhaling shakily as he did so. He braced carefully on one of his elbows, then slowly, he lifted himself up so that he was now sitting cross-legged on the floor. Tobio gave him a small smile in encouragement.

“There, now. It’s better, right?” He asked, reluctantly, and Osamu only gave him a small nod.

“God..  _ Fuck _ … Tobio…” He murmured into the space between them, after a few beats of silence, and then reached up to rub his head. He brushed some of his dark strands to the side of his forehead and glanced up at the ceiling. 

It was dead silent in the apartment now, save for the sound of their combined breathing. Tobio felt his hair, his back, and palms beginning to sweat, and he grimaced. He needed a shower.

From the looks of it, Osamu’s panic attack seemed to have passed for now and he was glad that it did, but he also hoped that the inevitable post-panic attack hangover would persuade his soulmate to cut his bindings, cruel as that might be. He was a hostage after all. However, he needed to make sure his panic attack wouldn’t start back up again before trying anything. 

A minute passed. Tobio breathed out slowly. 

“How are you feeling?” He heard himself ask. The question felt a bit ridiculous considering everything, but he remembered the time Kei had a panic attack in the office following a meeting that had gone south with a rival company, and how the lawyer was left with a debilitating headache that he couldn’t even move. 

“Are you alright?” He repeated again, a bit louder this time.

“I felt like I was dying,” His soulmate muttered quietly, locking their gazes back together. He looked terrified, and his eyes were so wild and frightened that Tobio had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself grounded. 

_ No one is going to hurt you anymore,  _ he thought,  _ I won’t let that happen. _

“You weren’t dying. You were having a panic attack.” He said eventually, voice soft but firm. “What about your head?”

“T’feels like I just got hit by a train.” He mumbles, wincing at the sound of a blaring horn from a car passing by on the street outside.

Tobio nodded in understanding. “That’s expected.” He said, just loud enough for Osamu to hear but not too loud to hurt his overly sensitive ears. Now that he was certain his soulmate was in a more stable condition, his next objective was to ensure he was rehydrated, and that his blood sugar levels were back to normal. Tobio had a feeling that the other didn’t really have a chance to actually eat anything the entire day considering he was too busy abducting him and all. But first, he needed to get the tape off.

“Osamu,” he called, his voice low, nearly a whisper, twisting a little in his seat. “You need to cut me loose. You think you can manage that?” 

At first, Osamu looked at him like he was skeptical. Tobio knew that this was his only chance to regain his freedom, but he could sense the doubt radiating from him like the heat coming from the radiator in the corner of the room. But then, after a moment of intense silence and even longer of intense staring, he sighed and nodded his head. 

Tobio silently watched him stand up from where he was sitting, his heart thumping loudly in his chest in anticipation. Osamu picked up the cleaver off the table, walked over to him, and crouched down. Their eyes met for a brief moment, before the cleaver went through the tape efficiently. He started with his legs, then his arms, and lastly, he went around to cut through the tape that held his chest to the chair.

Finally,  _ finally _ , Tobio pulled himself away from the armchair he’d been literally stuck to with a sound strangely resembling that of someone hacking phlegm. He made a face at that thought.

Once his arms were freely moving, he ripped the tape off his body, taking extra care not to damage the dark shirt he was wearing, since it was a gift from Miwa’s latest collection and he didn’t want it ruined more than necessary. He rolled the sticky tape into a ball and tossed it carelessly to the side, but not before shooting it a dirty glare.

Osamu threw the cleaver back on the table when he was finished and stood up, exactly at the same moment as when Tobio got to his feet. He wobbled slightly and his muscles protested at the sudden movement after a long period of sitting in that uncomfortable position. Osamu reached a hand to steady him, wrapping it tightly around his forearm where his soulmark was, making him involuntarily shudder. 

Tobio stared at him for a moment, all kinds of emotions running through his head ranging from ‘punch him’ to ‘kiss him’ to ‘fuck him’ to ‘ _ fuck _ him’, and without really realizing it, he’d run a hand along Osamu’s cheek, wiping away the remainder of the tears that still lingered there. His soulmate didn’t retract from the touch, instead, he sighed and nuzzled his cheek into Tobio’s hand in return. 

They stayed like this for a while, until he remembered the state of his face, with all the blood and sweat, and winced, pulling his hand back in the process. Still, the physical contact seemed to soothe them both so he pitched forward, resting his forehead briefly against his soulmate’s before he drew his body back a pace, bringing their eyes back together. 

He tilted his head to one side and cleared his throat, “I need to clean my face. Then, we’ll see where to go from there.” 

Hearing his words, realization suddenly seemed to dawn on Osamu and he nodded, pulling Tobio with him. He led him through the hallway with an agonized slow shuffle, considering what they’d both been through this evening, before he stiffly stood in front of the second door that opened to the left side of the apartment. 

“Uh, this is the bathroom,” he stated the obvious, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Ya can clean up here. I’ll uh — wait for ya in the living room.”

Tobio resisted the urge to laugh at him. An hour ago, he was acting all strong and unapproachable. His cleaver only a hair away from slicing Tobio’s throat open. Now, he closely resembled a confused puppy, and refused to even meet his eyes. He smiled to himself and shook his head.

Tobio turned to thank him quickly, before stepping into the bathroom, closing the door behind, and switching on the light. He lifted his eyes around, taking in everything inside. The bathroom was so small that only one person at a time could fit in there. The walls were a busy mosaic of light and dark blue, and Tobio was impressed by its impeccable cleanliness. The mirror above the sink sparkled in the dim neon light, and the bath was so bright and clean, he was reminded of the one in his ensuite. Even the towels smelled fresh and airy (exactly like how Osamu had smelled earlier) and were carefully folded on a railing in the corner. 

_ So you’re a neat-freak, huh. _

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror to assess the situation at hand. His skin seemed to have lost most of its color, and his cheeks were hollow with a sickly pallor. There was a throbbing bruise on the side of his jaw, exactly where Osamu’s angry fist had connected with his face earlier, and he winced at the pain that seared through him when he gave it a tentative poke. Aside from that, darkening blood was drying on his upper lip, but his nose did not appear to be broken when he pressed at it gently from the side. The whites of his eyeballs were streaked with red blood vessels, and he couldn’t exactly ignore the heavy bags hanging underneath each eye, most probably due to exhaustion and dehydration. 

All in all, it could have been worse. 

He cleaned himself as much as he could, mostly wiping the blood and sweat from his face and neck before running a hand through his hair to tidy it up a bit. Once he was done, he turned off the faucet and tried to consider his next move but his mind kept getting distracted, thinking about the way Osamu’s tongue felt against his own earlier.

Fucking hell, even the thought of it made him shudder. 

After a moment of hesitation, Tobio let himself linger a bit on that thought. Obviously the attraction between them was immediate. Of course it could be explained by their newly-formed bond, but even without it, Tobio couldn’t deny the fact that he found him extremely attractive. Osamu was definitely Tobio’s type, to say the least, and he secretly hoped he was Osamu’s type too. 

He sighed and shook his head. The sooner he and his soulmate got out of this mess, the sooner they could start thinking about these things. 

A quick glance at his wrist watch told him that it had been almost five hours since he had left the company and Tobio had yet to understand what exactly was at stake here (aside from his life, that was). He had been expecting some kind of story, something about pissing off the wrong people or running with the wrong crowd. But judging from Osamu’s visceral reaction earlier, he’d come to the conclusion that his brother was deeply in trouble for some reason. That complicated things, of course. Because now, he wasn’t just responsible for Osamu’s life, but also his twin’s.

Although he preferred to reach a peaceful resolution, one in which Osamu would willingly explain the situation, he knew he was running out of time (and patience). More importantly, his soulmate had proven to be stubborn and completely self-dependent with a mountain of trust issues. Convincing him would definitely be a feat. 

He also preferred to not involve his family, if he could help it. At least not yet, anyways. His mother especially would have strong opinions about this whole fiasco. So, as far as he knew, his only course of action was to get Osamu to fess up, and then call Kei to formulate a plan of action. 

Speaking of his best friend…

Tobio amused himself thinking about the blond’s reaction. He’d never let him hear the end of this.

With his mind made up, Tobio took one final glance at his reflection, then walked out of the bathroom, into the hallway and towards the living room. 

In the living area, Osamu was pacing back and forth in front of the armchair he had been duct-taped to only a few minutes earlier. His mouth was pinched, and his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. He looked as if he were trying to find the answers to the mysteries of the universe. 

At one point, when Tobio finally emerged at the entrance of the hallway, Osamu stopped in the middle of the room, sending a sharp look in his direction. He looked as if he might come closer, but instead, he stood there, nails digging into his palms. 

After a moment, Tobio said, “Are you feeling better?”

Osamu angled his head back, letting his gaze linger on Tobio’s brand new bruise only for a moment, before meeting his eyes.

“I know things got heated earlier, but I still need the money.” He said, completely ignoring his question, with a flat tone that was both frightening and annoying.

Tobio rolled his eyes so hard, he was almost certain he caught a glimpse of his hippocampus. He wanted to strangle the man and had momentarily thought about using his hands to do it, but then the sight of Osamu’s thick neck made him reconsider. This fool had just barely recovered from a fucking panic attack and he was back on his bullshit. It hadn’t even been ten minutes for god’s sake. 

“And I told you, money won’t solve your problems.” Tobio walked towards him, advancing a step as if to meet the obvious challenge.

Osamu stiffened immediately.

“Don’t act like ya know anything about me or my problems, ya hear?” His voice dropped a bit lower, and his hands clenched, knuckles turning white, as if he were preparing for battle.

Tobio considered him for a moment. He looked so tired and so weary, much more than someone that young should probably be allowed to. Like he had already suffered through an entire lifetime and was paying the price in mute, aching silence. 

Tobio swallowed, but forced himself not to waver. 

“Look, I’m not going to pretend I know what you’ve been through, but you strike me as a smart man.” He said, evenly. “And as such, I know that a part of you believes me.”

Osamu faltered, clearly not expecting to hear that. After all, he couldn’t really argue against this point without him insulting himself in the process. Tobio allowed himself a small compliment for putting him on the spot. 

“I mean, look at you. Ten minutes ago you were thrashing on the floor, gasping for breath like a dying man. Not to mention the bruises on your face or how you wince every time you even think about moving. Whoever’s been hurting you isn’t going to stop when you pay them. If anything, they’ll hurt you even more.” 

“Yer my soulmate, right?” He asked rhetorically. “That means we share morality. So it shouldn’t be a problem for ya to pay the money. Why are you being so unreasonable?”

“We do share morality in the spiritual sense, yes,” Tobio agreed, shuffling on his feet a bit. “But you’re also a criminal and a kidnapper. That changes things.”

“And yer a murderer, ya know that?” Osamu’s silver eyes found his dark-blue ones, and he pointed an accusing finger at him.

“And how, pray tell, did you come to this conclusion?” Tobio rolled his eyes at him. This was getting old really fast. 

“By refusing to give me the money, my life, my brother’s life, hell even yer life are all forfeit.” He explained simply, almost dejectedly. “By refusing to give me the money, the real murderers will find us and kill us and mop our entrails off of this floor.”

Tobio frowned at him, “Wouldn’t that make me an attempted murderer though? Wait, is that even a thing?”

“That’s not the point!” He gave a growl of frustration.

“Hey don’t look at me, you’re the one who brought this up. And anyways, as I said before, my family is powerful. No one would dare to harm you or me or your brother. In fact, whoever is forcing you to this better start writing their will, because when I’m done with them, there won’t be anything left to even bury.” He said, irritation clear in his voice. “But before I can do that, I need you to explain this situation to me. I need to know who’s behind all of this.”

“Fucking hell, when will ya understand?!” Osamu screamed at him, anger making his eyes somewhat paler and his face redder, and for a moment, Tobio feared that his panic attack would be triggered again. “I don’t want your family’s help! I just want the money.” 

He needed to calm him down, so he considered another approach. 

“You know what, fine.” Tobio made a show of finally conceding to his demands, throwing his hands up in surrender for an extra added flare. “I’ll gladly pay you the ransom, but under one condition.”

Tobio’s words seemed to have the intended effect, because the moment they reached his ears, Osamu’s eyes widened for a moment before he swallowed. “What’s yer condition?”

“It’s simple. You have to look me in the eye and tell me, with all honesty, that all you want from me is this money. That you haven’t, not even for a second, considered a life with me. Together. As soulmates. Away from all this,” he gestured around vaguely before continuing, “I’ll give you the money. I’ll give you double even, enough so that you and your brother can start over. But you’ll never see me again. That’s my condition.” 

He paused for a second, allowing the words to sink in, but then he remembered what Osamu had told him only a few hours ago, and looked back at him with a smirk, “I guess that makes  _ you _ the choice millionaire after all, huh.”

He knew it was a low blow. To give him an ultimatum like this. But Tobio wanted him to realize that paying the ransom wouldn’t solve any of his problems, and he clearly had a lot of those. He needed Tobio as much as Tobio needed him. It was as simple as that.

At first, Osamu looked as if he were going to say something, but then he eased back, subtly trying to hide just how uncertain he was now after hearing Tobio’s words. He snapped his mouth shut, his face went slack, and the accusing finger that was shoved in Tobio’s face lowered to his side. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Osamu’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Yer extorting me.” He said, in a voice much smaller than how it was a few minutes ago. “Yer extorting yer soulmate. Shame on ya.” 

Then, without saying another word, Osamu launched himself at him, his firm chest collided with Tobio’s slender form with a faint thud and his hands reached up to wrap in his dark strands. Tobio stiffened at the sudden touch, but Osamu refused to give him a chance to think, to say anything. Instead, he brought their mouths together and kissed him. 

If he were to describe their third kiss with one word, elegant wouldn’t be the one he’d choose. It was all teeth scraping together, tongues moving against each other, all messy and wet and desperate and filled with an insatiable urge and he couldn’t help but moan deeply at the feeling. He felt long fingers tangling in his hair, teeth nibbling on his lower lip while his own hands moved along the curves of his soulmate’s body.

“I hate you, pretty boy.” Osamu’s voice was hushed when he broke the kiss. “Ya put us through all of this just to get what ya wanted, huh?”

Tobio couldn’t help but laugh quietly against his lips. “And what is it that I want that you don't also happen to want, huh? Your freedom? Your happiness? Us having a chance at life together? What are you so afraid of?”

Osamu leaned forward and bumped their noses together. “Who said I’m afraid? Maybe I just find ya annoying.” 

“Even so, I still want to help.” He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of Osamu's hands as they moved down his body, fingers barely tracing circular patterns on his back before they settled on his ass, giving it a firm squeeze, making him gasp, and his eyes flying wide open. 

“Anyone ever tell ya that yer savior complex is infuriating?” Osamu asked, his mouth near Tobio’s ear now.

And just like that, Tobio knew he’d won. Another business negotiation closing in his favor. He allowed himself a small victory smile before tilting his head back to properly look at him. 

He thought he could see the hint of a smile hidden in the crinkles around the man’s eyes. But that could be the dim lighting of the room. They were both silent for a long moment, neither one of them moved, as if they didn’t want to break the sort of calm that had fallen over them.

“Finally, we reach a comprom— ” Tobio started to say, when all of the sudden his stomach growled. Loudly. He flushed pink and cleared his throat. 

“Um do you have anything I could eat? I haven’t eaten since, well, lunch.” He said sheepishly.

Osamu regarded him for a moment then eventually, he let out a sigh and asked, “How about some onigiri?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from Send Them Off!! By Bastille.
> 
> So, I have a lot to say about this chapter lol. I don't know if you can tell, but I really struggled writing this.
> 
> It took me a week to figure out a way to progress the story in a believable way. Even now, I still think it's quite unrealistic, especially considering that Osamu had to go through two panic attacks, but I didn't really have a choice.
> 
> The idea was that I wanted Tobio to be cut free in this chapter, but I didn't know how. I looked through countless videos on youtube, trying to see if I can find someone who managed to cut themselves loose from being tightly duct-taped to a chair, but alas, I found nothing. At some point, I even considered giving him an apple watch and having him use Siri to call Kei but I scrapped that idea, because one; it wouldn't have made sense for him to use it this late in the story, and two; I thought Osamu will definitely hate him if he did this because of his clear trust issues. 
> 
> In the end, I figured that the only one for him to get out of that sticky situation (see what I did there!!) was Osamu, and now we're here.
> 
> Also, the phrase "Set Me Free" is both applicable to Tobio being finally freed from the chair, and also to Osamu's mental state, because by choosing to free Tobio, he chose to free himself as well. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like the story so far!


	6. The End of the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next are dialog-heavy so prepare yourselves.  
> Also thought I'd mention it, but every time someone drinks beer, I actually mean melon beer.
> 
> Fic playlist on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4VwO2e2GwzbhVX05Jg3FNX)!!

**🍙 Tuesday, 0:17 - Miya’s Apartment 🍙**

Miya Osamu was a strong person. But even strong people have a breaking point. 

Did that make him suddenly weak? 

Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. But regardless of the answer, he thought he had made some progress in navigating his trauma. He couldn’t exactly afford therapy but he tried his best, relying on outdated psychology books and self-enrichment articles he borrowed from the library on the other side of town. Still, he wouldn’t say he was immune to the occasional nightmares pertaining to his parents’ murder where he’d wake up panting and shaking and vomiting into the trashcan he kept next to his bed. Or the occasional anxiety attacks he suffered every now and then, which again, were expected considering his life. But he’d never experienced something as severe as the panic attack from earlier. 

Progress navigating his trauma. Yeah right. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what had set him off. He’d seen blood before. He’d hurt people before. This wasn’t even his first kidnapping, yet his head just couldn’t convince his body of that. Though if he were to be honest, it was most likely the sequence of triggers from the past few days that added up until the dam broke loose.

Watching the blood seep from Tobio’s nose because of him was the last straw. He was so scared that he couldn’t even breathe, his body switching to Fight or Flight mode all on its own. The best (or worst) part was how Tobio didn’t care about his bleeding nose or the fact that he was punched. 

No.

Tobio had cared about _him_ , of all things. He had looked concerned, not judgmental, not mocking, not even angry. In fact, he went as far as to guide him through his episode — asking him to focus on his voice, his eyes, the way his chest moved in sync with his breathing, all while whispering words of support as Osamu struggled to draw air into his lungs.

Tobio might not have realized it, but he’d probably saved Osamu’s life this evening. In more ways than one.

And when his panic attack had finally passed and the adrenaline had worn off, he felt drained, depressed, and miserable. But above all, he felt embarrassed and ashamed of his own weakness. But once again, Tobio was understanding, compassionate, and sympathetic. Checking to see if he was feeling better, if his head was hurting (and it did) which made him wonder briefly if the other could feel his pain through their shared bond. 

Osamu had been so out of it, that when Tobio had asked him to cut the tape away, to set him free, he completely gave in. It wasn’t helped by the fact that Tobio had looked at him with such softness in his eyes that it made it hard to refuse him. The sudden relief that washed over him when the cleaver went through the tape was surprising. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and that for once, he could let someone else take control of the situation for a bit.

Before he knew it, Tobio had excused himself to the bathroom to clean his face. Osamu had felt both relieved to finally have a moment to himself and also a bit disappointed at the sudden loss of proximity to his soulmate. He took the opportunity to reflect on the past couple of hours, to clear his head, and force his brain to formulate a plan of action. 

At one point during the night, Osamu had hated Tobio. He couldn’t stand his rich bastard act or his infuriating calmness. 

At one point during the night, Tobio had made him feel things. Things that he couldn’t even put a name to. Like that cold-hot throb in his chest when he looked at his soulmark. Or that tingle underneath his skin every time their lips touched or their eyes locked. 

And somehow, at one point during the night, Osamu had decided that he did not hate Tobio anymore. How could he? When all Tobio wanted was to help him. And he knew he needed help. He knew he had to ask for it, and if there was anyone in this world who would be willing to help him, that person was Tobio. 

But could he really trust him? His brother’s life was on the line. Could he really afford that price?

Then Tobio had returned back to him, ominously emerging from the dark hallway to give him an ultimatum, shamelessly throwing back his own words at him.

Rage, and fear, and hopelessness, and desperation filled him. All mixed together with the confusion and disbelief of having to hear his soulmate declare that he wanted him. Perfect, rich, extremely stupid Kageyama fucking Tobio wanted _him_ . Wanted a _life_ with him.

And although Osamu knew better, he felt himself soften at that moment. He felt his heart ache, thinking about the blue-eyed man with his pouty lips, and silky hair. Thinking about their future together. How good his life would be. How happy he would be.

He tried hard not to think about it for the entire evening. He tried to concentrate on the reasons why being with his soulmate was a terrible idea, because it kept him from admitting how much he wanted the rich bastard who had broken through all his defenses and turned his world upside down in a matter of hours. _Hours_. And it wasn’t even lust that made him lose his sanity, though he’d be blind to deny that Tobio was indeed beautiful. Inside and out. It was the feeling of respect. Of deep admiration, acceptance, and maybe even affection. Of the curious yet enticing looks that Tobio had given him from the very first moment their eyes met. 

And he wanted it. 

He wanted to bury his nose in Tobio’s neck where his soft hairs rested. He wanted to run his lips across his pale cheeks. He wanted to dig his fingers in his hips and pull him close so that they melded together, until he couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began. Osamu wanted it. He wanted it all. And for him, wanting was a dangerous game. Because wanting Tobio meant one more thing to lose. 

But then, slowly, slowly, slowly, despite everything he’d feared and everything he’d told himself in the last fourteen years of his life, the intense earnestness of Tobio’s eyes, his comforting touch, his gentle voice, grew too much to resist and he couldn’t bring himself to shut him down, to lie and push him away. 

And then finally, at one point during the night, he had realized that the thought of having to live a life where Tobio was not a constant presence was almost as terrifying as the thought of losing his brother. 

And in the span of two seconds, Osamu strode over to him like a man possessed, pressing their bodies together before slamming his mouth against Tobio’s, silencing whatever words, whatever thoughts swirling in his head. His lips, his tongue, his entire soul tried to convey his emotions, hoping that the other understood his answer.

Why did this feel like redemption instead of perversion? Why did this feel like victory instead of defeat? Why did this feel like hope instead of despair?

The revelation was so startling that all of a sudden he felt like crying. He had made his choice. He had chosen to trust Tobio. He had _chosen_ Tobio. He had chosen happiness. And it was so _easy_.

He was scared. No. He was fucking _terrified_ , but he refused to let that fear rule his life again, to stop him from at least trying. The steady movement of Tobio’s thumb brushing along the back of his hand comforted him and he allowed himself to relax, soaking up whatever relief that Tobio offered.

After a moment or two, Osamu grasped his shoulders to hold him at arm’s length. He put enough room between them so that they could talk, but also still close to each other to be touching. He did not want to break their physical contact just yet. 

Silence enveloped them, both unsure how what to say or how to address the elephant in the room. Then the sound of Tobio’s stomach growling in hunger broke the tension, and he felt his lips twitch with silent laughter as he watched his soulmate’s eyes widening for a second before he cleared his throat. 

“Um do you have anything I could eat? I haven’t eaten since, well, lunch.” He refused to look at him, trying to hide the embarrassing blush on his cheeks.

Osamu inhaled, then breathed out through his nose and asked, “How about some onigiri?”

He led Tobio into the kitchen, which was literally five steps away from where they stood, and motioned for him to sit on one of the uncomfortable bar stools. Then, he turned over to the fridge and took out the tupperware that had the onigiri he prepared yesterday for Atsumu. He swallowed the lump in his throat and popped them in the microwave.

In the meantime, he set out a saucer on the bar, and took the half-full soy sauce bottle out of the cabinet and placed that next to it. 

Tobio threw him a considering glance as he turned back to the microwave, pretending to be busy looking at the rotating tupperware inside. 

“What is it?” He asked, over his shoulder.

“Nothing.” Osamu could hear the frown in his voice, so he rolled his eyes and turned around to look at him

“Clearly it’s not, seeing as how ya keep staring at me.” 

“Nothing, it’s just that...” He trailed off, then he sighed and started again. “First of all, I want to apologize for putting you on the spot earlier. Also, I want to apologize for triggering your panic attack and hurting you in the process.” 

Osamu barely managed to hide a flinch, Why was this idiot apologizing? Did he suddenly forget about the whole drugging, kidnapping, taping-to-a-chair thing? Or the fact that his soulmate was the biggest jerk in the history of jerks? 

“Ya don’t — I mean, I’m fine.” Thankfully, he was saved by the sound of the microwave alarm going off. He put on an oven mitt and took out the tupperware, carefully placing the onigiri on a plate before setting it down in front of Tobio. 

“Here.” He pointed down to the plate, “Eat.”

For some reason, he didn’t feel like sitting, so he took a few steps back to lean against the counter before crossing his arms. He watched Tobio put his hands together, quickly mumbling a ‘thank you for the food’, then grabbing an onigiri, and taking a bite.

His eyes widened for a second, looking down at the bitten onigiri, then up at him, then back down, before taking another eager bite. Then another, and another, until the onigiri was gone in less than ten seconds. Osamu frowned at him. He must be famished. How long had it been since the man had eaten? 

Then his thoughts turned dark when he remembered that it was his fault Tobio was starving. Because he kidnapped him. Because he taped him to a fucking chair for almost six hours, barely agreeing to even offer him a sip of water. How could he expect to be treated like a human being when he couldn’t offer his own soulmate the same courtesy.

Tobio must have read his mind because he looked up to regard him, face stuffed with rice as he chewed hungrily before swallowing. 

“My god, this is literally the best onigiri I’ve ever eaten.” Tobio’s lips slid into a dopey, lopsided smile. “Are you a culinary genius or something?”

Osamu couldn’t help himself but laugh. “Ya must’ve had terrible personal chefs if you think that.”

“Who said anything about me having personal chefs?” He picked another, and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth. 

Osamu’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline at the sight. Then his face flushed, imaging _other_ things Tobio could be stuffing in his mouth and he cleared his throat.

“Uh, ya might wanna slow down a bit.” But Tobio of course ignored him, deciding to stuff his face with another rice ball. Osamu sighed, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water and placed it on the bar. Tobio shot him an appreciative glance before gulping half of the water to wash down the rice he practically inhaled. 

Osamu had to admit. It was rather... cute. Then he internally cringed at himself. Since when was the word ‘cute’ in his vocabulary?

“I’ll have you know, I cook my own meals.” He said eventually, referring to the conversation from a minute or so ago. “But thank you for this.” 

“Ya don’t have to thank me for everything, ya know.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re so anal about my politeness.” Tobio said nonchalantly. 

“A — anal?” His mind short-circuited at the choice of word.

“Oh my god, No! I mean yes! If that’s what you want, but not now.” He flailed in embarrassment and slight panic, voice muffled as he covered his face with his hands.”I’m gonna stop talking right now. This is so embarrassing.”

Osamu’s lips curled up into a small smile. He drew closer to Tobio, and pressed a kiss on his head before going back to his previous spot. Honestly it was disgusting. He’d known the man for less than twenty-four hours and he was already turning into a hopeless sap.

Tobio’s hands fell from his face and his blush deepened, his eyes looking everywhere but him. “I — I mean we can talk about sex later.”

Osamu nodded, because they needed to talk about sex, but they also needed to talk about other things. Gulping, he turned away to stare at the backside of the couch in front of him. He knew he had to explain everything to Tobio, but something at the back of his mind kept nagging him.

“Ya said ya wanted to help me. But, I’ve got nothing to offer ya in return.” 

“Why do you even think I want something in return?” He countered, a pout forming on his lips.

“So yer telling me yer doing this because ya want to?” Osamu resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Is that so hard to believe?” 

“Well, Tobio, the thing is, from where I come, nothing is free. Nothing.” 

Because that was the truth. One way or another, there was always a price. Nobody did anything out of the goodness of their heart. Nobody did anything without expecting something in return. And that wasn’t a bad thing, in his opinion. People should be compensated for their deeds. He was not going to hold it against Tobio if he acted the same. He just wanted to see where he stood with him. 

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Tobio said, straightening up on the bar stool. “What makes you think you have nothing to offer me?”

“Yer joking, right? Look at me. I’m a criminal. Ya said it yerself.” This time he did roll his eyes. For a businessman, Tobio failed to see how terrible of a bargain this was.

“That might be true but that’s not all there is to you, is there?” He tilted his head to the side, a contemplative look settling on his face.

“What're ya talking about?”

“Well, I’ve only just met you so I might be wrong but you have so many desirable qualities and I’m not just talking about your ridiculously good looks.” Tobio fucking _winked_ , and no, he didn’t blush like a bride on her wedding day. Miya Osamu did _not_ blush. 

Thankfully, Tobio seemed to be oblivious to his not-blushing. Or maybe he wanted to spare his pride. Osamu was seriously not expecting this response, but he was intrigued to hear the rest anyways. 

“You clearly have a strong will, and you’re reliable and intelligent, judging by the fact that you were the one selected to carry out my kidnapping.” He said, resting a finger on his chin. “You’re also caring and kind, and so utterly _human_. God, I mean, life has thrown so much at you, yet you still try to have some semblance of normality.”

Fucking hell, why was he saying all these things? Osamu was a piece of shit. He didn’t deserve this kindness. He didn’t deserve the way Tobio was looking at him. 

He turned his head away, mentally begging him to stop but Tobio continued nonetheless. 

“The way you still keep your apartment clean, the way you fold your towels, the onigiri… all these things are so endearing to me because they remind me of your humanity, of your perseverance...” He paused, his eyes looking around the room in consideration. 

Osamu had to dig his nails in his hands to distract himself.

 _Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry._   
  
“I suppose what I’m trying to say is that you’re already offering me all I want, so you don’t have to think about that anymore.” He said firmly, before quickly adding, “And as a self-made businessman, you should believe me when I say that between the two of us, I’m the lucky one.” 

He stared, eyes unblinking and mouth slightly agape. Kageyama Tobio was also a hopeless fucking sap. The biggest, richest, fucking sap in the whole world, and Osamu might have laughed if he weren’t trying so hard to keep himself from crying. 

How did Tobio know? When did he realize that this was exactly what Osamu had been dying to hear from someone his entire fuckcng life? Was he so easy to read? And what did it say about him, that a few nice words were enough to send him reeling?

He was so fucked up.

His grey eyes pricked with tears threatening to spill and he felt light-headed. His breathing grew heavy and he had to hold himself up on the small counter, closing his eyes as he tried to breathe through it. 

“Osamu,” Tobio said softly, trying to get his attention, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

When his heartbeat slowed back to normal, he pressed a hand over his forehead, “I think I’m about to faint.”

“Faint? Wait a second,” Tobio narrowed his eyes at him and he stood up from the stool, “Have you eaten anything while I was cleaning myself?”

He didn’t look at him but he slowly shook his head. Food was the last thing on his mind.

“Oh my god I’m such an idiot.” He slapped a hand to his forehead, before going around the bar to gently guide him to the other bar stool and forcing him to sit. 

“You need to eat. Panic attacks drain your blood sugar. Here.” He offered him an onigiri. Osamu wanted to object because he wasn’t hungry. He felt sick, in fact, but Tobio insisted.

With open suspicion, Osamu took a small, tentative bite, testing the waters first. It was… painful. Not like a typical physical pain, but rather, his body was protesting the idea of food as if his digestive system was idle and simply refused to get to work. His stomach turned and his nose and eyes started to water. Tobio watched him closely, keeping one hand on his shoulder while the other was in his hair, fingers running through his strands, providing him with comfort and silent encouragement. 

He breathed deeply, trying hard not to focus on the swirling in his stomach. When the initial wave of nausea subsided, he nibbled at the onigiri again, and then kept taking larger bites until he finished it. It surprised him how instantly better he felt even though he had no appetite at the start. 

Tobio smiled, “There, it feels better now, right?” 

He nodded weakly, and when he was sure he was capable of talking again, he turned to Tobio, “So, not just a pretty boy, huh?”

Tobio laughed lightly, breaking the tense mood and loosening the knots in his stomach. Osamu watched as he sat down on his own stool, grabbing the second to last onigiri and taking a bite, before holding the rest up for Osamu like a grand offering of sorts. He made a face at him, but relented, leaning down to engulf all of it in one bite, all while maintaining eye contact. They sat chewing silently for several seconds. He then took up the last onigiri, dipped in in soy sauce, and after taking a bite, he held the rest up to Tobio, who managed to get most of it in his mouth without making a mess.

“Indirect kiss.” His soulmate remarked, as he chewed thoughtfully.

“Yer gonna be the death of me, ya know that?” He murmured, swiping a thumb across Tobio’s cheek to pick a rice grain that was stuck there, and eating it.

Tobio looked at his face, “Is that really a terrible way to die?”

He snorted, “Cheeky aren’t ya?” Then he got up, picking the empty plate and Tobio’s water glass on the way. He dumped everything in the sink, walked to the fridge and pulled it open.

“Want a beer?” He asked, not bothering to wait for a response as he plucked two bottles anyway, opening them and placing one in front of Tobio. He took a long swing from his bottle, his mind trying to sort and prioritize his thoughts.

“So, my sob life story, huh?” He quietly asked.

To his credit, Tobio mulled over his question for a minute or two. He took a sip from his own beer, setting it down carefully, and leaning forward to rest his arms on the bar. He slowly nodded, and looked back at him. 

“Only when you’re ready.”

Osamu turned his gaze away, biting the inside of his cheek. He knew it was inevitable, of course. He just didn’t know if he was ready. He didn’t know if he would ever be ready to talk about his life. But then again, everything in him trusted Tobio. Especially after that speech he delivered just a few minutes ago.

Well, better to get this over with now, he thought. And besides, the sooner Tobio was made aware of the fuckery that was this situation, the sooner he could get his brother back. 

He nodded once before asking, “Whaddya want to know?”

“Tell me about the debt and the person who’s forcing you to do this.”

Osamu was expecting this question, so he walked back to the stool and sat down, leaning his right arm on the bar as he toyed with the label of his beer bottle. “That would be fourteen years worth of events, sure ya wanna hear all of it?”

“Maybe not all of it. I believe we have a deadline?”

Osamu exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. While it was true that he wanted to tell Tobio everything, he was not that excited about spilling all his guts in one go. He paused for a moment, eyes wandering to the bruise on Tobio’s face, without even realizing it, he had lifted his hand, fingers suspended in the air tracing but not quite touching the angry purple discoloration, before putting it back down. 

Tobio didn’t even flinch. Did he really trust him that much?

He looked away and started talking. 

“When Atsumu, my twin, and I were twelve, our parents were murdered. At the time, I didn’t know it happened for a reason. I just assumed it was bad luck. We lived in a shady neighborhood and things like robberies going wrong and ending up in murders weren’t exactly uncommon. Except, in this case, my parents murder wasn’t just a random killing.”

Osamu felt glued to his spot on the stool with anxiety as his mind recalled that horrifying image of his parents’ lifeless forms laying in pools of blood. His breath got stuck in his throat as he was assaulted with that memory. His attention was snapped back, however, by the feeling of Tobio’s hand coming to rest on his thigh. It was such a simple comforting gesture, but it grounded him. 

He swallowed hard and continued.

“On the day of the funeral, I saw an old man at the service. I couldn’t recognize him. He wasn’t friends with my parents, and he wasn’t family. I remember I kept staring at him, and him staring right back. I thought maybe he was someone my dad knew from culinary school so I let it go. I forgot about him until one week later when Atsumu and I were supposed to move out of the apartment to our aunt’s house back in Hyogo.”

He paused again, this time though, he wasn’t anxious or sad. He was angry, enraged. The memory of the oyabun’s empty eyes that day burned into his brain. Osamu grabbed his beer and drained all of it, wiping his lips with the back of his hands before heading to the fridge and pulling another. 

“On the day of the move,” He said, cracking open the bottle and returning to his seat, “I woke up in the morning and realized something was wrong. My aunt and her belongings were gone, and there, in the middle of our old kitchen, stood that man from the funeral. He didn’t even bother to take his shoes off. I remember being scared and confused, and it must have shown on my face because he leaned down to pat my head and said he was going to take me and Atsumu home.”

Osamu recalled with a sneer, his grip tightening so hard on the glass bottle, that he feared it was one second away from shattering in his hand. 

“I didn’t understand anything, but the man was kind to us. At least at first. We lived in his nice house, we went to a nice school in Tokyo’s center. He made sure we were fed and clothed and got whatever we wanted. I thought it was going to be fine, ya know. But then we turned fifteen and realized it was all one big fat lie.”

They’d felt so happy back then. So safe and content, that for a moment, they’d forgotten about their parents’ murder. They would often lie in bed, whisper to each other through the night until the butler scolded them to go to sleep. They talked about anything and everything — the new friends they made, the school’s volleyball club they joined, their teammates, their terrible English teacher... Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to lie and pretend these two and a half years were terrible. Because they weren’t. And that was why it had hurt so much when the truth was revealed. 

“The man, who apparently was an Oyabun for a small Yakuza family that ruled downtown Tokyo, had my parents murdered because my dad refused to pay him the ‘protection fees’ he forced vendors operating on his turf to pay. My parents sold onigiri by the station.”

When he spared a glance at Tobio, he was biting his lips, as if to keep himself from saying anything, and Osamu appreciated the thought that he allowed him to speak without interruption. He also appreciated that Tobio was not looking at him with pity. In fact, he looked angry, his hands were balled into fists and he had not touched his beer since the moment Osamu started talking. 

“At one paint, they were confronted by his goons and my dad stated that the station was a public facility and therefore he wasn’t going to pay the man anything. The man told me he let my parents sell their onigiri for a month, to let them feel safe, to let them think they’d won. Then he killed them in cold blood. Exactly when they were least expecting it.”

The memory was like a pit in his stomach, a mottled, heavy weight like a stone. He pressed the knuckles of his hands to his eyes firmly, trying to push the tears back inside. How many times was he going to cry this evening?

“In the end, I learned that my dear aunt had sold us to the fucking oyabun, because according to him, we had a debt to pay. See, killing my parents wasn’t enough for him. No, he had to make an example, he said. Which entailed that for every day my parents had their kiosk open at the station, Atsumu and I had to serve him for a year. My parents worked at their kiosk for a month. Oh and if either of us decided to run or tell someone about this, he so graciously informed us that he’d have one of us killed while the other watched.”

He sighed wearily, suddenly feeling as if he had aged a hundred years in the span of ten minutes. He’d never talked about this with anyone before. Not even with his brother. Because to Osamu, talking about it made it real, and he refused to be a victim, even when he clearly knew he was.

“That was fourteen years ago. This kidnapping was supposed to be our ticket to freedom. Yesterday, I sent my brother away and planned this whole thing. Except the oyabun didn’t like this. Atusmu was always my weakness. He knew if my twin was out of harm’s way, he couldn't exactly put me on a leash. So he had people follow him and bring him back.”

He laughed bitterly, taking a sip from his beer.

“He had my brother call me just an hour ago and I had to listen to him get beat up. Do you understand now why I need this money?”

Tobio blinked at him, once, twice, then he cleared his throat. “Bring me a phone.” He said calmly, stretching his hand out and wiggling his fingers. “I’m about to skin a bitch. And I need my lawyer.” 

The profanity rolling from Tobio’s mouth was as much as a surprise as the fact that he, without a second thought, whipped out his phone and handed it over. 

“I’m gonna need another beer.” He declared just as Tobio was pressing on the ‘call’ icon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter is from Relax, Take It Easy by Mika.
> 
> Someone's mad 👀


	7. I Know You Feel the Same As I Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warning for:
> 
> \- Mention of a panic attack (poor Osamu can't seem to have a break)
> 
> Fic playlist on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4VwO2e2GwzbhVX05Jg3FNX)!!

**💙 Tuesday, 1:38 - Osamu’s apartment 💙**

Kageyama Tobio was the heir to the richest family in Japan. Kageyama Tobio was Osamu’s soulmate. Kageyama Tobio was a dead man. But not because he was a target for extortion by the yakuza, but because he was calling Kei.

The lawyer was going to skin him alive, especially since he had explicitly asked not to be bothered until Wednesday, and yet here was, doing exactly that. But then again, his other option would be calling his mother, and that was definitely worse. 

Maybe if he used his puppy eyes, Kei would have mercy on him. 

One way to find out..

He took the offered phone from Osamu’s hand and called up the phone dialer, sparing a quick glance at his watch. It was well after midnight and Tobio suspected, no he was certain, that his friend was currently preoccupied with _other_ important things. He shook his head, clearing his mind from that mental image. He was not going to imagine his childhood friend doing _that_.

Realistically speaking, Tobio needed Kei for several reasons, but most importantly, he needed his calmness. It wasn’t like he couldn’t take matters into his own hands. He was more than capable of handling a backwater yakuza family in the middle of nowhere in downtown Tokyo. The problem was that he was afraid of what he might do to the people who had hurt Osamu.

To say that he was emotionally charged would be an understatement. Left to his own devices, Tobio was certain he would raze that entire yakuza family from the face of the earth. And this might have severe consequences on his personal image, on his family’s image, and above all, on Atsumu, who was currently held captive somewhere in the city. 

Suffice it to say, he needed his friend’s logical mind to come up with a rational solution. 

Tobio dialed the number he recalled from memory, standing in the middle of the space separating Osamu’s living room from the kitchen, listening to the dial tone ring for a whole minute before disconnecting with that obnoxious voice of a woman telling him to leave a message after the beep. 

Tobio scowled at the phone. He knew his friend was especially busy this evening, but lives were at stake here. Kei could get laid after Atusmu was rescued and he and Osamu were safe. Hell, Tobio was even willing to offer him a paid-leave for a couple of months if necessary. 

He tapped that familiar number again. Then again, and again and again, until Kei picked up on the sixth time. 

When the line connected, Kei’s irritated voice answered. “Good evening, this is Tsukishima Kei. Who am I speaking to?” 

Tobio almost regretted his choice when he heard the biting, condescending tone. He gulped loudly and spoke through the phone. 

“Kei it’s me — um Tobio.”

Kei didn’t reply, at first, but then he made an exasperated sound.

“Why are you calling me from an unlisted number?” He asked, voice a bit raspy, “Why are you calling me, period? I was clear, wasn’t I?”

“Uh yes, I need help. I’m sorry for interrupting you and you Kuroo-san from doing things.” And by things he meant each other. 

Kei, of course, was too perceptive for his own good and understood the off-hand remark, clicking his tongue before saying, “This better be good.”

“I’ve been kidnapped.” He declared, pausing dramatically for a second, then continuing, “By my soulmate.” He glanced over at Osamu who was on the verge of sleeping on the bar stool. The mention of the word ‘soulmate’ stirred him awake. He stretched his back and blinked at Tobio.

There was silence on the other end. Ten seconds passed, then another, and Tobio was actually worried that Kei had hung up on him thinking this was a joke or a prank, but then he heard the sound of sheets rustling in the background, then his friend spoke again.

“Tobio what the actual fuck?” Kei shrieked from the other end, forcing him to pull the phone away from his ears for a moment. 

He let out a small dry laugh, imagining the face Kei was making at the moment, then an idea occurred to him. 

“Kei are you… decent?”

“I’m a lawyer for god’s sake. Decent was thrown out of the window ages ago.” Tobio heard him sigh wearily through the receiver, “But I’m wearing a shirt I shouldn’t be wearing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He didn’t have to be that dramatic about it, but Tobio held his tongue. The last thing he wanted right now was to antagonize his friend.

“Hold up, I will switch to video call.” He walked back to the bar, resting the phone against his half-full beer bottle from earlier. He quickly glanced at Osamu, silently asking him for permission but the other just shrugged. He tapped on the video recorder icon and waited for Kei to accept the request. 

Seconds later, his friend’s unamused face filled the screen. Indeed, he was wearing a shirt but it wasn’t buttoned, his hair looked as if someone had run their hands through it repeatedly, and even in the dim lighting of his home office, Tobio could see the angry red spots on his neck. He blushed and cleared his throat. 

“Um hi.” He said lamely, his embarrassment making him accidentally push his arms way too far on the bar-top causing the precariously balanced phone to slightly wobble. He swore quietly under his breath and steadied it. Osamu snorted, but didn’t say anything.

Tobio rolled his eyes, glaring at him before Kei’s voice snapped his attention back to the present.

“Tobio what the hell happened to your face?” He leaned closer, squinting his eyes at the screen as if that was going to make him see better. “Wait if you’re kidnapped then how are you calling me? Are you alright?”

Osamu visibly flinched next to him, his body suddenly curling defensively on the stool, his hand gripping his beer bottle tightly. Tobio could tell he was getting anxious again, so he reached out to him, taking his free hand into his own and squeezing it in reassurance. 

Once Osamu’s white-knuckled grip on the bottle had loosened, he turned the phone slightly to the left so that both of them were showing on the video. 

“That’s a long story.” He replied, “For now, I want you to meet my soulmate.”

Kei looked at him, then at Osamu who was trying hard not to frown, then back at him again before his eyes widened comically behind his glasses. 

“Fuck me sideways, this is a crime scene, isn’t it?” He asked rhetorically before reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose “Oh my god Tobio.”

“It is.” He confirmed, shooting Osamu an amused look. Thankfully, his soulmate did not react negatively to the mention of the word ‘crime’. This whole issue was a sensitive topic, and Tobio still felt he was walking on eggshells when it came to him.

After a few seconds of what could be considered awkward silence, Kei cleared his throat.

“Well, I believe introductions are in order. I’m Tsukishima Kei, Tobio’s lawyer, assistant, and apparently, the person he calls when kidnapped. Nice to meet you.”

Osamu blinked a few times then huffed a laugh, “I see. I’m Miya Osamu. Uh nice to meet ya, too.”

“Great, now then,” Kei turned his attention back to Tobio, “Explain what’s going on?”

Leave it for Kei to turn an extremely weird situation around and take full control of the conversation. Tobio suspected he had entered his ‘cross-examination’ mode.

“As I said, it’s a very long story. For now, all you need to know is that Osamu jumped me in Cypher Corp’s parking garage, then drugged me and taped me to a chair.” Tobio stated it so softly and so calmly as if it were the single most nonchalant thing in the world. 

From the corner of his eyes, Osamu was looking at him guiltily. The regret in his eyes, remorse, the pain of knowing he’d hurt his soulmate, albeit unintentionally, had torn at his mouth until he was frowning at his own knees.

He looked like he felt...hopeless. Tobio wanted to shake him or maybe slap him or kiss him, anything to wipe that expression off. He hated that look on his face, he never wanted to see it again.

Kei must have sensed that something was wrong judging by the sudden pause in the conversation.

“Arlight,” he prompted, “What happened next?” 

Tobio looked back at his friend and sighed. “When I woke up, he said the words on my arm, we kissed, he punched me, and now we’re here.”

Kei looked as if he were considering all the evidence presented to him. Or at least the evidence he could see himself through the screen of his phone. First, his inquisitive gaze settled on Tobio’s bruised face, and he scribbled something on what Tobio assumed was a notepad he had resting on his lap. Then, he took a note of Osamu’s tense shoulders and general nervousness, as if he were one second from bolting away. Finally, Tobio watched as his eyes scanned the screen, taking in the general state of their surroundings; the blurry empty beer bottles on camera, the poor lighting of the apartment, and Tobio disheveled state. Once he was done with his notes, he looked up at them again, shifting slightly on his seat. 

“Before I ask my questions, I need to know why you called me.” He said, absentmindedly pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, “Because you managed to free yourself and you’re clearly getting along with your kidnapper-slash-soulmate. Yet you said you needed help.”

For as long as Tobio had known him, Kei had always been perceptive, always could read a room well, always able to read others like open books, always had a sense of what some people felt about him — this was why he thrived as a lawyer, and even more so as a corporate one. The thing was, Tobio had never been on the receiving end of this calculated gaze before. To make it worse, Kei was now using his ‘lawyer voice’ which always kind of scared Tobio. He could only imagine what Osamu was feeling at the moment.

Had this been another person, Tobio would have taken his time telling the story from the beginning all up until this exact moment. With Kei, however, he decided that a direct approach would be favorable in this case. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner ‘lawyer voice’ Kei would go away, and the sooner they could leave all this behind.

“I‘m being extorted by the yakuza.” He started, wiggling on the stool to make himself comfortable. “Osamu was forced to carry out the order.”

Kei hummed, not looking even a bit surprised and if he did, then he hid it well. He abruptly turned his full attention to Osamu, who seemed to flinch at the motion. 

“How and why was Tobio chosen for extortion?” He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow in question. 

That… was actually a good question which totally slipped his mind. It was definitely an oversight on his part. Why him and not someone else. But in his defense, he had bigger problems to deal with at the time. Luckily, Kei had made a point to ask it before anything else.

Osamu seemed to consider the question a moment, looking around the room first, then taking a sip from his beer, before finally speaking.

“I don’t know much, if I’m being quite honest. I’ve only been given minimal instructions and some intel about Tobio’s work schedule, the place he parks his car, his apartment complex, and his daily routine.”

Kei regarded him with a look, pretending to ignore the causal use of his first name, quickly writing something down. 

“So what you’re saying is that they have researched him, right? Even if they were in a hurry, they would have needed at least a month or so to accurately establish an entire daily schedule.” He tapped the pen on the notepad then continued, “When did they ‘commission’ you for the job?”

Osamu frowned at the question this time. “This doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Exactly why do you think that?” Kei looked bored as he asked this, as if he’d spoken the words countless times before.

“Because ya said it would have taken them a month at least to gather intel,” his voice was starting to shake all of a sudden, “But.. it doesn’t make any sense. Because it shouldn’t have been planned. That this whole thing was supposed to be something they quickly put together as a way for me to pay back whatever dept Atsumu raked after he stole something from the oyabun.”

Tobio furrowed his brows in confusion. He had no idea why Osamu was being so anxious. Kei’s question was clear and straightforward. 

“Osamu what’s wrong?” He asked. His hand stretched out to rest on his shoulder, but Osamu flinched away from him, like a wounded animal. Tobio’s frown deepened.

“You’ve been lied to.” Kei stated simply, putting his pen down and crossing his arms on the desk. “They’ve been planning a kidnapping for a while now and probably needed you to carry it out. Of course, you’re a wildcard, someone who can’t be controlled easily. So they probably fabricated the story about your brother stealing something from them to force your hand. Did they even tell you what he stole? I don’t think so. They used you both.”

Osamu stood abruptly from where he was sitting, his stool nearly fell with the speed at which he moved. He banged both of his hands hard on the bar-top. Tobio could see his body starting to shake and his breath coming out in short, labored puffs. 

“Kei, would you excuse us for a second.” Tobio said softly to his friend, who was now looking at them with confusion and slight worry.

He drew closer to Osamu, his hands hovering close to his shoulder, but not quite touching yet. 

“Hey look at me, please.” His soulmate turned to him, and Tobio felt his heart hurt as he watched how absolutely dejected he was. Slowly, slowly, he grabbed his balled fists, unfolding them into his hands, giving them a gentle squeeze.

Osamu had shut his eyes so tightly it almost looked painful, but luckily he didn’t flinch away from his touch.

“Remember the breathing thing we did earlier?” He mumbled into the space between them, fully aware of Kei’s eyes watching this through the phone. “Let’s try it again, okay?”

Osamu’s small nod was all the confirmation he needed before starting to count. This time, he easily matched Tobio’s breathing rhythm, having more control over his body. They did this for a few minutes, until he was certain the panic had passed. 

When Osamu finally opened his eyes again, he looked grateful, but mostly he looked embarrassed, choosing to stare at their locked hands instead. Tobio leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then he pulled him towards the couch and made him sit there, releasing his trembling hands as he did so. 

“I’ll talk to Kei, okay?” He said, leaving another gentle kiss on his head this time. “You can join us when you feel better.”

Osamu nodded, inhaling shakily, “Go.” He said weakly, waving for him to leave. 

Tobio gave him a smile and silently went back to the stool, lowering the volume of the phone but still keeping the video call mode on. 

Kei looked remorseful if anything, slightly bowing his head, “I’m sorry for being crude.” He said, genuinely, “I didn’t realize he’d react this way.” 

“I’m not the one you should apologize to, but thank you anyways.” His voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, “I think Osamu suffers from PTSD but I didn’t have the time to discuss it with him. Anything remotely bad related to his brother will trigger him, so please be careful.”

Kei nodded, his eyes and expression turning gentle, something he had rarely seen on the other before.

“What do you need me to do? I assume there’s a ransom?”

Tobio sighed, “One billion yen. But that’s not all.”

Kei leaned back in his chair, looking a little more relaxed. “This price is very steep, I think. What else is there?” 

“The yakuza have his brother held captive.” He grabbed Osamu’s half-full beer and took a long sip, “I need you to contact Yamaguchi.”

Kei raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t comment. Instead, he asked, “Name?”

“Miya Atsumu. They’re twins.” 

Kei nodded and typed something off-camera on what Tobio assumed was his computer, judging by the clicking sound of the keyboard. He turned to look at him again, “Yamaguchi has been informed. Now about those yakuza. How do you plan on dealing with them?” 

Tobio played his question over, remembering Osamu’s breakdown from an hour ago. 

God. It had been painful. Having to watch him fall apart once had been enough for a lifetime. Tobio refused to allow that to happen again.

He swallowed, then ducked his head to the beer bottle he was holding in his hands. Kei probably guessed something was tugging at him, but he was patient, as always. He chugged the rest of it in one go, appreciating the fruity aftertaste before setting the bottle aside. 

“I want them gone Kei. Not just dealt with. I want them to vanish completely and without a trace.” His fingers drummed against the surface of the bar. “They hurt him so much and I want them to pay.”

The lawyer looked to his left, sighed, and rubbed his eyes. “That… can be arranged but we have to plan it properly. The last thing we want is a scandal.” 

Tobio nodded in agreement. “That’s why I called.”

“You have to understand something, though.” He said, folding his arms. “No matter the outcome, they’re already ruined, anyways. The moment they decided to target you, they picked a fight with your family. I imagine your mother will not take this lightly.”

He sighed. He had hoped to postpone his family’s involvement in this drama, but apparently it couldn’t be helped. “No she won’t. She might even send Oikawa.”

Tobio unconsciously suppressed a shudder at the thought of the extravagant man and imagined Kei experiencing the same thing judging by his ill-concealed flinch. Oikawa was many things; a philanthropist, an art collector, and occasionally, a playboy, but he was mostly known for his people-reading skills, making him a great businessman and a perfect negotiator. Which was why Oikawa had always been the first one to be called when a mediator was needed. He was also a certified bastard and an unbearable asshole, and Tobio wouldn’t wish him on his worst enemies. Except the yakuza. Because they sucked. 

“You know she will.” Kei said cynically. “Which is why we need to wrap this up before they get involved.” 

“You’re right.” He said, nodding his head, “We should plan this carefully.”

“We can build a case. I’ll see if any of my contacts in the criminal law branch can help as well.” Kei’s response was more measured this time, “Do you remember Daichi-san?”

Tobio recognized the name. They were only acquainted with each other because he was one of Kuroo’s closest friends. Still, he remembered the man being friendly with him, immediately assuming the role of his big brother. He also remembered his occupation, which was probably why Kei had mentioned him.

“He works with the police, right?

“Exactly. He and Tetsu get together on a regular basis for drinks.” Kei replied, voice contemplative. “I’ll join them next time. See if he has any information on this yakuza family.”

 _Yeah good luck with that_ , he thought but didn’t say it. Drunk Kuroo was an interesting specimen to say the least. Drunk Kuroo _and_ Dachi, though? Kei was willing to make some sacrifices, it seemed. 

“You’d brave the storm?”

“The things I do for you, your majesty.” Looking at the blond man, Tobio could see the hint of a smile forming on his lips. 

Tobio twisted his body on the stool, sneaking a peek at Osamu. To his surprise, his soulmate did not appear to be sitting, but rather, he was lying down, his feet propped up on one of the arm rests of the couch. He could still hear the shallow breathing but at least he was calm enough to regulate it on his own. 

Tobio felt relieved. Not only because it meant he was feeling better, but because it meant that he trusted him enough to let him be the one making decisions, that he trusted him enough with his own safety and the safety of his twin. It was a small victory but one that made him secretly smile.

He turned back to the conversation and cleared his throat. 

“What do you suggest we should do for now?”

Kei fixed his glasses and leaned forward in his seat, resting his arms on the desk. 

“From my understanding, we only have one safe option,” he explained, holding the pointer finger of his left hand up. “We pay the ransom, and have Shouyou retrieve Miya-san. Let them think they’ve won. Then, take them out while their guard is down.”

Exactly what that old bastard had done to Osamu’s parents. Let him have a taste of his own medicine. Tobio loved that idea, but Kei had mentioned something else that caught his attention. 

“Wait, retrieve Miya-san? Yamaguchi located him?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“He did.” His friend confirmed, switching to the phone’s backside camera to quickly show him Yamaguchi’s email. Not that he didn’t believe him or anything. Still, Tobio was impressed. That was quick, even by Yamaguchi’s standards. Kei’s request must have had some urgency to it. 

When Kei switched the camera back to show his face, Tobio mused, “Just like old times, huh?”

Kei smirked at the billionaire. “The Fuck Club is back in business.”

"The _what_ club?" Tobio heard Osamu faintly ask from somewhere in the room but he dismissed him with a small wave.

He made a mental note to explain the nature of their 'Fuck Club' to his soulmate on a later date. For now, however, he had more pressing issues.

“Do we even have that much in cash to begin with?” 

Because that was another important factor to consider. He was not about to transfer that amount of money through wire. Not only was that a major security risk, it would also attract suspicion. 

Kei considered him for a moment, checking something quickly on his computer before turning to look at him again, his eyebrows pinched together in a frown.

“Unfortunately, we don’t. We’ll have to speak with the family’s accountant.” He paused before continuing, “Your mother is going to kill you.”

Tobio groaned. He was worried it might come to this. He buried his face in his hands, his voice coming out muffled, “Fucking yakuza.”

Kei, being the thoughtful (shitty) friend that he was, snorted at his misery, “Do I have your approval then?”

Head still in hands, Tobio nodded, “Make sure you clearly mention that we’re paying them back as soon as possible.”

From somewhere behind him, he heard Osamu scoff faintly. “Unbelievable. Ya had me go through literal hell only for you to pay the ransom in the end? Fucking rich bastard.” He grumbled.

“Hey!” He whipped his head so quick that his neck cracked and he flinched at the sound. “I’m the one who has to explain this shit to my mother.”

Osamu scoffed again, this time loudly. “Cry me a river, pretty boy.”

Tobio glared at the back of the couch for a couple of seconds, then turned back to Kei, who was chewing on his lip to keep himself from laughing. 

“One more thing.” He began, gathering his notes, “We may or may not get the money back though.”

Kei tried to say it lightly, as if it were another minor detail that they needed to go through, but Tobio could hear the tension behind it.

“You mean after we deal with them?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Kei nodded once, “I’ll have Yamaguchi monitor their activity but nothing is certain.”

Tobio considered for a moment, then sighed. “This is a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“Very well.” He glanced at his notes, arranged neatly in a stack, then he looked back up. “I will call you later. For now, you should go look after Miya-san. The other one.”

“Okay. Keep me posted.” He said, then smiled genuinely and added, “Thank you Kei, and sorry again for disturbing you and Kuroo-san.”

“Don’t get sappy on me. ” Kei rolled his eyes, then he spoke again, “Talk soon.”

The blond waved a hand at him before ending the call. 

Tobio closed his eyes and tilted his head upwards, phone clutched tightly in his hands. Even if they made it unscathed somehow, they still had so much work to do, and that included both the yakuza mess as well as amongst themselves. Osamu’s mental health, for one, was at the top of the list. Not to mention his own social obligations. There would be dinner parties, company parties, family parties…

Osamu meeting his parents… 

Tobio snapped his eyes open. This was something they needed to discuss as soon as possible. Since the family was going to be the one paying the ransom, his mother would be informed, which meant she would descend at him like an angel of death sooner than he hoped. 

He pocketed the phone after making sure it was set to ‘Ring’ then stood up, grabbing a couple of glasses from the cabinet he saw Osamu open earlier and filling them with water. He then walked to where his soulmate was currently lying on the couch, with one arm covering his eyes.

Tobio carefully placed the water glasses on the edge of the table, and put his arms akimbo, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Since you were mocking me just a few minutes ago, I assume you’re feeling better?”

Osamu grunted, then lifted himself upright into a sitting position with his legs crossed under him. “I’m so fucked up, aren’t I.”

“Osamu..”

“Don’t. Just.. Don’t.” He put his head in his hands, fingers reaching up to pull at the strands of his hair. “Atsumu tried to tell me he was innocent, ya know. But what did I do? I almost punched him. I refused to listen to him.”

His head snapped up so quickly, his grey eyes wild with anger. Tobio found himself taking a step back at the sudden intensity of the look. He tried to think of something to say but Osamu beat him to it. 

“What does it say about me?” He asked, in a voice that trembled a little. “That I chose to believe the man who ruined our lives instead of my own fucking brother.”

Tobio swallowed, and sat down next to him. He gently pulled Osamu’s hands away from his hair, then picked up one of the water glasses, placing it in his hands, and urging him to drink.

“It says nothing about you. Aside from the fact that you love your brother so much that you’re willing to risk it all for his safety.” He said, firmly. 

“I’m so fucked up.” Osamu repeated, finally lifting the glass to his lips and gulping down the water. 

Tobio sighed as he watched him.

“You’re not fucked up. I wouldn’t say that. But,” he trailed off, uncertain how to broach the subject, “If presented with the opportunity, would you consider therapy?”

When Osamu shot him a questioning look in response, Tobio quickly held both of his hands up, “I won’t force you. But you’ll benefit from it.” 

“Maybe. I don’t know.” Osamu shrugged, placing the now empty glass on the table. 

“It’s okay.” Tobio said softly, “You’ll have enough time to think about that.”

“Enough time, huh.” He didn’t sound so convinced, and Tobio couldn’t exactly blame him. Still, he scooted closer on the couch, gently turning Osamu’s head so they could look at each other. 

“Kei said he’ll call when everything’s over.” He said quietly, locking their eyes together, “You’ll see your brother again, and you’ll both have enough time to do whatever you want. I promise.” 

Osamu stared at him for a moment, then breathed a laugh. “Remember what I said about yer savior complex? I take that back. I think it suits ya."

He gave him a smug smile, then knocked their foreheads together. He felt fatigued, the day’s events took a huge toll on his body. He snaked his arms around Osamu’s waist, sighing contentedly when the other hugged him back. 

“This might sound cringe to you, but can we cuddle until Kei calls back?” He murmured, his head coming to rest on the space between Osamu’s shoulder and neck. 

Tobio felt him swallow, and for a moment, he worried he’d made him uncomfortable, but then, slowly, Osamu maneuvered them so that he lied back down on the couch with Tobio’s body nestled between his legs, and his head resting on the other’s firm chest. Unexpectedly, one of Osamu’s hands drifted up to his hair, deft fingers running through the strands making him shiver with satisfaction.

“Can I see it?” Osamu whispered, followed by a small kiss to his forehead. 

Understanding his question, Tobio lifted his arm for him. “You have to roll down my sleeve because I simply refuse to move.”

Osamu snorted but managed to unbutton the sleeve with one hand (which was impressive in Tobio’s opinion), then he pulled it down his arm, finally exposing his soulmark. His free hand gripped Tobio’s forearm, pulling it closer to him as he examined the words etched on his skin. Tobio felt him inhale deeply, mouthing the words silently to himself, running his pointer finger across each letter lightly. Once again, Tobio shivered at the touch, enjoying his soulmate’s hands against his skin.

Osamu broke the silence eventually, “Can’t believe I really put the word ‘fuck’ on yer body.” 

Tobio huffed, tilting his head slightly up to properly look at him. “Can you imagine how difficult it was growing up with _that_?”

Osamu blinked at him, then laughed. Hard. It was so sudden, so loud, that it actually shocked Tobio. He felt it reverberate throughout his chest, and he laughed along with him. Because his soulmate was happy. Because he was happy. Because both of them laughing like this, tangled together on this too small of a couch suddenly felt like the most natural, most perfect thing in the world. 

When the laughter died down, Osamu pulled at his hair, gently coaxing him to look up again.

“When my soulmark showed up, my mother laughed at me.” He reminisced, “I was offended, of course. But she said I have to shower everyday if I want to meet my soulmate.”

Tobio smiled, “You really smell nice, though. I’m glad you took her advice.”

“I think…” He started to say again, but then sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts, “I think my mother would have liked ya.”

Tobio swallowed, sensing the sudden shift in mood. 

“I think I would have liked her, too.”

Osamu sighed again, resting his chin on Tobio’s head. 

“You know something. I think my mother’s already unimpressed with you for putting a cuss on me.” He said, lifting up a bit to send a smile at him, “But I think you can win her over with your onigiri.” 

“I still can’t believe ya inhaled seven of them in one go.” He remarked, playfully tugging on Tobio’s hair. “Yer worse than ‘Tsumu.” 

Tobio gasped in mock offense, “Don’t blame me!” He said to him, all fake and exaggerated which had Osamu rolling his eyes at him. “Blame yourself for making such delicious food!” 

“Yeah yeah, stop shouting.” Then he urged Tobio to lay back down with a gentle push to his head which he gladly obliged.

After a few minutes of silence, or maybe more, Tobio slowly opened his eyes (he didn’t even realize he had closed them) to look at the wall across from them. 

“You might have to meet my family in a few hours.” 

“I think, with ya by my side, I’m strong enough to face even yer family.” 

Tobio’s eyes widened at this sudden admission, and he lifted up so quickly, he accidentally elbowed Osamu in his stomach, making him grunt in pain.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” He said, hands flying to rest on the spot he unintentionally hurt.

“This is what I get for trying to be romantic.” He complained, but Tobio could see the teasing sparkle in his eyes and the soft smile on his lips.

Tobio was about to open his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by the vibration of the mobile phone in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing Kei’s number flashing for a video call request, before swiping the screen to accept.

Kei’s sleepy face greeted him. This time, the lawyer was resting his head against a bed frame, the lighting in the room was dim, and he could clearly see the edges of the duvet that was covering him. Tobio felt a bit guilty at having to keep his friend awake, and he promised himself to make it up for him later. 

“Hi King.” The blond sleepily said, waving a hand at him. “Everything is taken care of.”

Tobio heard Osamu sigh in relief. He had straightened up, so that he was sitting properly now, with feet on the ground and back resting against the couch, but Tobio kept him off-camera in case he was still uncomfortable with talking to Kei. 

“That’s great news.” He smiled at his friend. Not that he expected anything else. Kei always delivered. Still, hearing it confirmed lifted a weight off his chest.

“That’s not all. Can I speak with Miya-san?”

Tobio frowned, but looked at Osamu, silently asking him if he was willing to join their call this time. His soulmate shrugged and nodded, inching closer on the couch so that both of them were visible on camera.

“Um, hey again.” He said, absently scratching the back of his neck.

“Miya-san, first I would like to apologize for my insensitivity earlier.” Kei began, straightening on the bed. “I was rude and unprofessional. Please accept my apology.”

Osamu blinked at him, and Tobio was certain he was struggling hard to come up with a proper response for the excessive politeness. He smirked internally. That would be another thing they’d have to work on. 

“Uh, thank you. I’m better now. And Osamu is fine.”

Kei nodded, then continued. “Thank you for accepting my apology. Now, I have news about your brother.”

Osamu tensed at the mention of his brother, hands suddenly clenching on either side. Tobio reached to the hand closest to him, and started rubbing soothing circles on its back. Osamu’s shoulders relaxed a bit, but he was still nervous. 

“What — what’s wrong?” He swallowed, eyes squinting at the blond.

“Oh. Nothing wrong I assure you.” Kei held his hands up, “It’s just that he also found his soulmate.” Then he turned to Tobio, “It’s Shouyou.”

“Oh my god, what?!” Tobio exclaimed in disbelief. Osamu on the other hand looked as if he were going through at least ten different emotions at the same time, before finally settling on barely contained laughter. In the end, he got up and walked to the kitchen, bracing himself against the bar as his laughing turned louder and louder. Tobio followed his movement with his eyes but didn’t say anything. 

The poor bastard had been experiencing one whiplash after the other. He could only imagine the toll this had taken on his already-fragile mental state.

“I know.” Kei’s voice brought his attention back to the phone. The lawyer was pinching the bridge of his nose, annoyance audible in his voice.

“Shouyou took Miya-san, uh the other one, back to his house. He’s suffered a few bruises but he’s alright and he’s safe.” He said, then added, “They’ll meet you later today at your apartment. Speaking of later, your mother will join you for breakfast in exactly nine hours. Do you need me to send a car to pick you up?”

“Oh fuck me. That quick?” He groaned in disbelief. But then again, was it really unbelievable? He did ‘borrow’ one billion yen from the family’s account. Plus, he got kidnapped by his soulmate. His mother would definitely demand an explanation. “It’s fine, I think we can take my car back to the apartment.” 

“Great. Then I’ll also see you in a few hours. Tetsu and I will drop by later to properly congratulate you.” He stifled a yawn, then leaned closer to the screen, “And also give your soulmate the shovel talk.” 

Osamu, who had very much heard everything, snorted from behind him, but didn’t comment on that. 

“Okay then, I’ll see you in a few hours. Bring wine.”

“Of course, I’m not a caveman.” He dismissed with a wave.

“Go to bed, Kei. You get cranky when you’re sleepy.” He teased, “Like an old man.”

“See if I ever help you again.” Then he disconnected the call without even saying goodbye. 

Tobio grinned, stood up and walked to Osamu. “So, I guess it’s finally over.”

“Guess it is.” He repeated.

They regarded each other for a fleeting second, until Osamu pulled him by the waist, locking their mouths together. Tobio sighed at the feeling, angling his head to the side to deepen the kiss. Osamu was happy to respond, biting, sucking, touching, demanding more. It was definitely slower and more gentle than their earlier kisses, most probably because they were both drained. Seconds passed, or maybe minutes, Tobio lost track of time, but when they pulled away, the both gasped for breath. Osamus’s cheeks were flushed, and he was certain his own looked exactly the same, if not darker. 

“What now?” He whispered against Tobio’s lips, feeling a bit lost. 

“Right now, I want us to go home, sleep, then strategize before my mother swoops in.” He bit his swollen lips, hoping that his soulmate would be agreeable. 

Osamu sighed and nodded. “Swooping is bad.”

Tobio laughed quietly. At least Osamu was feeling well enough to crack jokes.

“Anyways, since I like you and all,” He began, shooting a wink at his soulmate, “I’ll let you drive my baby. What do you say?” 

Tobio watched as Osamu’s eyes widened in surprise, both at sudden confession and the offer to let him drive his car. Tobio was honestly surprised at himself but he figured this was a great way to establish trust. And he was also tired and sore. 

“I knew it,” He said with a dopey smile, “Yer so whipped for me.”

“Forget it. I changed my mind.” He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. 

Osamu smiled, grabbing his arms and unfolding them. “Nope, no take backs.”

“Fine. But only because I’m too tired to argue.” That wasn’t really it. He’d seen the way Osamu’s eyes lit up just now when he mentioned the car. And it had already been established that Tobio was a weak man and a sap. 

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.” 

Tobio rolled his eyes at the nickname, but then said, “No, whatever _you_ say, Onigiri man.”

Osamu burst out laughing. “I created a monster.” 

“Shut up and let’s go. I’m one second away from passing out in your arms right now.” He whined, his signature pout visible on his face. Osamu kissed him again, then walked them to the apartment door. He gave Tobio a pair of his own shoes and laced their fingers together. 

“Let’s go home.”

Home.

Because Tobio was his home. Because Osamu was his future. Because Osamu and Tobio are good people. And good people deserve good things. And because they are good people who deserve good things, they deserve each other.

**[Bonus]**  
  
Tobio let his eyes close shut as Osamu drove them back to the city center where his apartment complex was located. The soft humming of the car, coupled with the faint rhythm of his soulmate's breathing next to him soothed his nerves and lulled him to sleep. Just as he was about to completely surrender himself to the sweet, sweet embrace of the darkness, Osamu cleared his throat. 

"So," he began, shifting a bit on the overpriced leather seat of Tobio's most prized possession. "What is the fuck club?"

A small chuckle escaped from his lips, and he opened his eyes to look at his soulmate.

"It's something Kei and I came up with when we were young." He smiled, recalling that memory. "We both have the word 'Fuck' in our soulmarks so we decided to form a secret club. Then, as we grew older, more people joined."

"This is literally the worst thing I've ever heard." Osamu scrunched his nose. "Who came up with that name?"

Had he not been feeling mentally and physically exhausted, Tobio would have been offended. Hell, he would have given Osamu a piece of his mind considering the fact that it was _his_ words that were etched on Tobio's perfect skin. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, looking not that different from a child who was about to throw a tantrum and snorted. 

"It made sense to me at the time." He said, softly kicking the floor underneath his bare feet to make his point.

Osamu laughed, then turned to him. "Somehow, I'm not even surprised."

In that very moment, Tobio decided that he hated Osamu's shit eating grin as much as he loved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title for this chapter is from Amaranthine by Amaranthe.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far, I'd like to thank you for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoyed the story!!
> 
> Originally, I wanted to include a sexy scene somewhere towards the end, but after taking the time to read through the story again, I felt like it would have been too soon, and frankly, too much for both Osamu and Tobio.
> 
> Which is why, I'm planning on writing their 'first time' on a later date (maybe during the Osakage week!) so if you're curious to see when that'll happen, you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bluedisquiet). 
> 
> Come say hi!!
> 
> Happy Osakage day 🍙💙


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